First Kiss
by meetmeinstlouie
Summary: Inspired by an interview before season 5 with Jim Carter and Phyllis Logan. Their stories about their school days inspired this fluffy fic. Rated T mostly for language - they're really young in this story. If you haven't seen the interview, watch it. I didn't make up the part about smoking and playing canasta. Update: Intended to be a one shot, but my brain had other ideas.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was inspired by an interview before the fifth season with Jim Carter and Phyllis Logan. They were asked about their school days, and their answers sparked the idea for this fic. I don't intend to make it any longer than just a one-shot.**

 **They might be a little OOC in this, but I had to keep telling myself they are in school – that is, late teens. And as a modern AU, that also entails some flexibility.**

 **I hope you enjoy this! Blame my migraine yesterday on why this Valentine's Day themed story is late!**

* * *

Charles winced when he saw the main hall.

Pink. And red. And hearts.

Everywhere.

 _Damn girls. They_ _ **always**_ _do this on Valentine's Day._

Since Alice broke his heart, he'd done his best to forget the opposite sex existed. His (former) best mate, Charlie Grigg, and the pretty brunette had been an item since October. The worst part was finding out they'd been going behind his back since the end of the previous year.

And then all the students finding out on social media by the next morning.

 _It would have been better if Downton had stayed an all-boys' school._

 _And resisted the twenty-first century._

He strode through the hall as quickly as possible on the way to breakfast. Eating a mound of fried eggs, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms and a stack of toast did not improve his mood. Philip Tapsell, seventh-year prefect, would not shut up about his younger peer, Robert Crawley.

"He lets the sixth years run riot! Ever since that American exchange student arrived in September, he's lost his mind!"

 _Not this. Again._

Charles sighed, biting into a slice of bacon. He glanced at the prefect next to Philip.

Richard Clarkson shook his head, exasperation written all over his face. "Robert never was a great one for rules. _You_ knew that! Why you let it bother you now, I have no idea!" Philip turned to the Scot with a snarl.

"Because I take being a prefect seriously, unlike you! And Carson, I'm surprised you haven't taken Crawley to task, you've been a great Head Boy-"

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Charles swallowed the bacon in his mouth. "Don't suck up to me Philip, you know it doesn't work. And insinuating Richard _doesn't_ take being prefect seriously is an insult, both to him and to Downton. Who was it that got a Special Award last term? It certainly wasn't _you_."

Philip turned red in anger, but fortunately stopped talking. Richard gave Charles a grateful smile, which he returned. The previous term, a fifth year named Spratt had collapsed with an epileptic fit in the dining hall. While other students panicked, it was Clarkson who turned him on his side, and shouted for someone to call for the nurse and an ambulance. Philip had been about as useful as Spratt's uneaten chicken curry.

Finishing his breakfast, Charles got up.

"I'm heading to the library," he said. Thankfully, Philip didn't move. Richard dropped his fork on the table and followed him. The two headed out of the dining hall and up the stairs.

"To tell you the truth, I'm jealous of Robert," the blond boy ran a hand through his hair. "He's mad in love with Cora Levinson, and she's smitten with him. I hate how Philip runs her down just because she's American. It's not _her_ fault her father's done business with Donald Trump." He sighed. "It would be nice to have a date for the dance tonight. For _once_. Instead of standing along the wall like an idiot." He sucked in his breath as they reached the top of the stairs and turned down a long corridor. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."

"No offense taken," Charles said automatically. It didn't hurt much anymore, but he was not looking forward to the dance at all. "I'd love to skip it, but I can't." A rueful smile spread across his face. "Sometimes being head boy is not all that it's cracked up to be." He nudged Richard, grinning. "Just think. After graduation, you'll be finished here, and you can pursue Nurse Crawley to your heart's content."

" _What?_ " Richard skidded to a halt. "I don't-she isn't…I- _what?_ "

"You don't have to pretend with me," Charles turned to him. "You like her. _Really_ like her." He glanced up and down the corridor to make sure no one was there. He lowered his voice anyway. "And she likes you. I saw her after we won the cricket last year, she had eyes for no one but you."

Richard backed against the wall, his eyes blazing. He poked a finger into Charles's chest. "I swear, if you're lying to me-"

"I wouldn't. Not about this," Charles knew better than most about hoping the girl of his dreams would notice him. He had spent the better part of three years pining for Alice.

 _What a waste._

 _But it doesn't have to be like that for Richard. It won't be._

"Even if you're right," Richard looked off in the distance, "Nothing's going to happen. It's not like…like she'd wait for me to finish school, then university, then after. She'd be insane to. For a _student?_ "

"Not a student," Charles said, straightening his blazer, wiping a piece of lint off his tie. "For you. You never know what could happen-"

He was cut off by a door flying open. A loud, familiar voice rang into the corridor.

"Absolutely _disgraceful_ , you know very well you're not allowed in there! And _smoking!_ -"

A quieter voice murmured something.

"Don't try to take the blame for this again Miss Smith, I know very well it wasn't _your_ idea to play canasta in the sixth year common room-"

Two girls stumbled out the door, followed by a third. Charles recognized one as Anna Smith, a slender fifth year. She looked ashamed of herself. Phyllis Baxter, on the other hand, fought a smile, trying not to laugh. Charles raised his eyebrows at the third, his friend Beryl Patmore. She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

They all flinched when the headmistress's voice was heard again.

"This is your _third_ infraction this term, Miss Hughes! You're fortunate I'm not expelling you right now! What will your parents say?"

The three girls hurried past the two boys, who were trying to disappear into the wall. A split second later, Headmistress Violet Crawley emerged, her face like thunder. One hand gripped the ear of a flame-haired fifth year girl.

She was familiar to Charles. Her white blouse was untucked on one side beneath her Downton sweater and the top two buttons were undone, the faint whiff of cigarette smoke following her.

"Ow-" she complained, as the headmistress marched her down the corridor. "Do you have to pinch my ear, you'll pull out my earring-"

For her cheek, she got another yank. "Not another word out of you," fumed Violet. "It's bad enough you cause trouble on your own without dragging your friends into it!"

As they passed the boys, Richard kept his eyes on the floor, hoping the headmistress would say nothing to them.

But Charles couldn't help watching them pass. Miss Hughes, _Elsie_ , that was her name. A fifth year Scottish girl who the maths professor praised. The same girl who had led a parade of streaking students across the pitch during halftime of the football match against Loxley. The girl who, according to the female prefects, stayed up all night with a fourth year girl. She convinced a suicidal Ethel Parks to go to counseling.

The girl who heckled him during his end-of-term speech last year. Yelling at him to speak his mind, not what he thought the administration wanted to hear.

The girl who found him outside crying in the rain after he found out about Alice and Charlie. She got him to come back inside. He could still feel her hand on his arm.

" _Are you all right, Carson?"_

She hadn't laughed, only listened as he told her how much it hurt. Alice's cheating, Grigg's betrayal. The whole school knowing about it. About how hard his parents worked, and how proud they were of him. How scared he was of disappointing them.

He had often wondered since why she listened. Why she bothered to sit in the rain with him.

But she hadn't laughed at him.

Her head was bent at an angle as she struggled to keep up with the headmistress. But she caught him watching her. To his surprise, a smile curved on her lips, her dark blue eyes twinkling.

They had a conversation without words.

 _Why did you do it?_

 _Because I could._

 _You're a troublemaker._

 _I know._

She _winked_ at him, making him gasp. He stifled it. It was like she was daring him.

 _Join me, won't you?_

He swore she strutted down the corridor, her skirt swaying from side to side. He tugged on his collar.

It felt very warm.

"Let's go," Richard said, making him jump. They half-walked, half-ran the rest of the way to the library.

* * *

Of all people to witness her shame, it would have to be him.

 _Him._

Head Boy Charles Carson.

Oh, she had brazened it out. He probably had no idea how badly she felt – mostly for Anna and the others. And the guilt over the phone call Mam and Da would get. It wasn't as if they didn't have enough to worry about. The last specialist who had seen Becky had not been optimistic about her prognosis.

 _Why did you do it, Els?_

It started out as just a bit of fun. A lark. She knew she shouldn't have, but sometimes she couldn't help herself. Life was too short to play by the rules _all_ the time.

The frustrating thing was, Charles _didn't_ play by the rules all the time. She knew he didn't agree with everything at school; he was nothing like that complete _arse_ Philip Tapsell.

He had defended Robert Crawley more than once, keeping the prefect from losing his position. He was the one who got two players booted off the cricket team. Alex Green and Dick Carlisle had been accused of sexual harassment by several girls. Charles had defended his decision as captain, even in the face of (literally) screaming opposition from alumni.

It was one of the proudest moments she could remember when he argued that treatment of fellow students was more important than winning matches.

Then he capped it by leading the team to victory anyway.

Charles had also defended his teammate, Tommy Barrow, against homophobia. It was the only time Elsie had ever seen him in a fistfight – which he won. Handily.

She heard Larry Merton still had a scar on the side of his face.

But he could be such a prat about such _little_ things! Being late to assemblies or meals, getting caught out of bed after hours, defying the dress code. Playing music too loud in the corridors.

 _It's not my fault he objected to "Uptown Funk" – the girls were just blowing off steam after our win in the debate over refugees!_

It was Charles who had convinced the headmistress to double the penalty against smoking. The new regulation had gone into effect just that year.

 _It's partially his fault she's threatened to expel me._

Violet steered her through the double doors into the main office. Her friends sat in the chairs just inside. The twentysomething nurse, a distant relative of the headmistress, raised her eyebrows as Elsie's ear was finally relinquished.

"Back again, Elsie?"

Rubbing her sore ear, she nodded. Isobel folded her hands on her desk.

"You know, if you stopped smoking, you wouldn't get into so much trouble."

"I highly doubt that," snapped Violet. She pointed to her office, and Elsie went in, sinking into a chair. The school secretary, Miss O'Brien, called back.

"Headmistress? Young Bryant's father is on the phone. He insists on speaking to you."

Violet turned to Elsie. "Stay there until I get back." She swept out of her office, muttering under her breath. "What does he want _now_ , his son's an arrogant little…the apple doesn't fall far from the tree…"

Elsie sank back against the chair, letting out a breath. Noticing her blouse was untucked, she put it back in its proper position and did up the buttons. She bit her lip in embarrassment.

 _Charles_ _saw_ _you like that. Blouse half out, a right mess._

 _Of course he looked immaculate._

Her blush deepened when she looked up at one of the pictures on the wall. The Head Boy and Girl, and all the prefects. It was a candid shot that had been taken outside, near the entrance gates in the autumn. Charles was laughing, a wide smile on his face.

He was tall and broad. More like a man than a boy. The buttons on his blazer shone as if he had polished them, his trousers were perfectly creased. The only thing out of place was an errant black curl, which fell across his forehead.

Her heartrate increased.

His voice…did he have any idea the effect it had? Not just on her, but on half the girls at school. And it wasn't because she loved cricket that she'd gone to nearly every match the previous year. Him in the cricket whites…

She'd had a massive crush on him since – well, almost since her first day at Downton. Not that she ever expected anything to happen. He'd been chasing after Alice Neal, the theater diva, for years.

 _Even if he hadn't gone after her, why would he go for you?_

He was the Head Boy, good student and athlete. Every parent's dream. She was the troublemaker, the one who didn't live by the rules, but was determined to live and let live.

Elsie clenched her fists, thinking of Alice. That bitch had callously cheated on Charles – with his best friend, no less! – and broken his heart without a second thought.

 _She didn't deserve him._

A smirk crossed her lips. No one would ever find out, she'd never even told Beryl. Alice never noticed her hairbrush had been switched. But the humiliation the conceited girl felt when everyone found out she had head lice was well earned.

Looking at her hands in her lap, she felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn't nice, Mam would say if she knew. After all, what was Alice to her? Or Charles?

 _I was there at his lowest point._

She remembered it vividly. A cold, rainy day at the end of October, she had slipped outside for a smoke. And she had seen him on the bleachers by the football pitch. His head down, clothes water-logged. Crying.

She had wanted to lean his head on her shoulder, put her arms around him. Carry his hurt. But she didn't know him, not really. They had barely spoken before then. So instead, she listened. Listened as he told her about Grigg. About Alice. About making his parents proud.

It had surprised her to hear they were working class. Like her family.

" _I guess I'm just a poser, Hughes. Making myself out to be more than I really am."_

Elsie had tried to assure him that wasn't true. She had more success getting him back inside. It made her angry to know he felt he didn't deserve Alice, that Grigg was somehow justified in what he'd done!

"Well, Miss Hughes, here we are again."

Violet seated herself across from the schoolgirl. Her expression reflected more disappointment than anger, something that made guilt flare up in Elsie again. She concentrated her gaze on her fingernails.

"I don't understand you, Elsie," the headmistress removed her glasses, tapping them the desk. "You are not the most diligent student, but you certainly have a keen mind. But you spend much more time causing trouble than anything else! It's one thing if you do it on your own, but when you involve your friends…"

"It's not their fault," Elsie said quickly. "It was my idea. Please don't punish them too badly."

A slight smile appeared on Violet's face. "You'll be happy to know I'm letting them off with warnings. Both Miss Patmore and Miss Smith have exceptional records, and as Miss Baxter is a sixth year herself, I have no reason to punish her." She leaned back in her chair. "As you know, the Valentine's Day dance is tonight."

Elsie felt a lump in her throat. _I should have known. Sitting up in my room while everyone has fun._

"You have permission to go," the headmistress said, making Elsie's head snap up in shock, "but you will be confined to the punch table. No dancing. The planning committee will be overjoyed, I'm sure, to know someone else will be taking their place. Also," she continued, "you will receive detention after classes for the next two weeks."

Swallowing, Elsie nodded. It would not be fun watching everyone else, but at least she would be there.

"Would you mind telling me before you leave, Miss Hughes, _why_ you persist in giving me headaches?"

For all her prickly nature, Elsie knew the headmistress had a soft heart. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I don't do it on purpose. I just…want to live a little. While I can."

Violet smiled. "Most people I know lose that _joie de vivre_ after they get old." She put her glasses back on. "I think you are one of the rare people that will keep it." She raised her eyebrows slightly. "It is admirable, but if you could try to find some ways of enjoying life that do not involve me dragging you into my office, I would be very pleased. So would my head."

Elsie managed a small smile. "I'll try, Headmistress."

 _Really try. She's not that bad._

* * *

Charles shuffled his feet as he stood in the corner of the hall. The dance was in full swing. Bass thumped through the loudspeakers, and the floor was crowded.

His friends and teammates were all out there. Richard was dancing with Beryl at the moment. Robert, of course, was with Cora. The two were dancing so close together Charles was a little surprised someone hadn't separated them yet. He wondered if he should do it, but…well, he _really_ didn't want to get in between them.

When he looked away, his eyes fell on Grigg and Alice. Hands all over each other.

It did surprise him a little that they were still together – Charlie had always been the type to flit from girl to girl. Maybe he had changed.

 _Or maybe he and Alice are just using each other. For their own reasons._

That would not surprise him, either.

Tommy, he saw, was dancing with his friend Anna Smith. Her date, the football captain John Bates, was deep in conversation with Billy Mason.

Jimmy Kent, Tommy's date, was over by the punch table, talking to Elsie Hughes.

Charles did a double-take.

He'd seen her there all evening, of course, but right when he looked again, Jimmy had made her laugh. Her eyes sparkled, and she threw her head back, obviously tickled. The glittering lights above them danced across her bare shoulders. Her purple strapless dress perfectly conformed to her body.

He had not realized until that moment that she had so many… _curves_.

Quickly looking away, he loosened his collar, tugged at his tie. It occurred to him that maybe he should – ask her out. Or something.

Gritting his teeth, he chafed at the obvious restriction. _I can't even ask her to dance!_

He felt himself smile as he saw her tapping her fingers on the table in front of her, the subtle movement of her feet that he couldn't see. _She_ _wishes she could dance, too._

 _Go and talk to her._

 _What would I say? Does she even know…of course she knows who you are! You're Head Boy!_

 _She probably thinks you're a posh wannabe. Or a sap. Last autumn…_

To still his swirling mind, and to get away from the loudspeakers, he started walking the perimeter of the room again.

* * *

It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

Sure, she would have _preferred_ to dance, but at least she could hear the music and watch the dancers. And occasionally talk to people when they came over.

There was one person she wished had stayed a little longer.

 _You're being ridiculous._

Of course he was exceptionally handsome, wearing a grey suit and a patterned tie. He'd unbuttoned the top button of his shirt a couple hours in, leaving the tie in a loose knot.

She wondered if he had hair on his chest. Grabbing a napkin, she fanned herself. It was warm, even in the huge room.

He'd come over exactly once, only to get a glass of punch from her. He'd barely danced with anyone – Beryl a couple of times, at least until her boyfriend Billy took over, then Phyllis once. Cora, the American girl, once. Elsie thought Charles and Robert must have been _best_ friends because Robert didn't let anyone else get a chance to dance with his pretty girlfriend.

At long last, Nurse Isobel told her she'd watch the table for the rest of the evening. By then it was an hour until midnight.

She ran to her room and grabbed her coat, her lighter and several cigarettes from her hiding place. Beryl wouldn't care if she opened the window, but she needed more air than their small room provided.

She only hoped the place where she wanted to go was still secret. It had been a while since she had last gone there.

Climbing a forgotten staircase at the end of the science wing, she held her phone up for light. To her delight, the piece of cardboard she'd slipped into the old keyhole was still there. The door groaned when she opened it.

A moment later, she was on the roof.

The wind was cold. But she had discovered that near one of the large vents was a perfect place to sit in winter. Also, it created a sort of shade from the glaring floodlight. She lit the tip of her cigarette and inhaled, feeling herself relax. When she blew out, the smoke streamed away, like from a train.

Lights from the hall were visible on the main lawn. At some point during the evening, the upper windows had been opened, because she could clearly hear, if only from a distance, the music still playing.

"I should have known someone else would find this place."

She leaped to her feet, almost dropping her cigarette. The rush of blood pounded in her ears.

Charles Carson's eyes were wide. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Her fright made her snap. "Well, you did. What now? I suppose you'll go and tattle to the headmistress on me." She took another drag. If she was going to get in trouble for the second time in the same day, she might as well finish it.

He studied his shoes, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I-I wasn't going to tell anyone. You're already in trouble, and…I was just surprised to see someone else here. In all the times I've come up here, I've never seen anyone else. I thought I was the only one who knew about the staircase from the lab."

Elsie felt a little ashamed of herself. And curious. Of all she thought she knew about him, she would not have guessed he'd be the type to let someone off. "Oh. Um…sorry." She shook her head, looking away. "It's been a rough day."

It surprised her that he would know about this place. That he would come up on the roof.

It didn't seem to fit his persona.

He nodded. "May I sit down?"

The question made her laugh. She gestured next to the vent. "Neither one of us are supposed to be up here. And you ask _me_ for permission?"

Sitting down, his long legs stretched out, he grinned. "Habit, I guess." His smile faded as he watched her. "You shouldn't smoke, you know."

"I've heard that before, you know." She exhaled again. "How often do you come up here, then?"

"Mmmm," he leaned back, the air from the vent turning his curls wide. "Twice a month, maybe. Sometimes more. Depends if I'm having a rough day or week."

"Are _you_ having a rough day?"

Looking off in the distance, he didn't seem to hear the question until he answered her. She had to lean closer to hear him.

"Valentine's Day…is not the best day for me."

She felt a stab of anger thinking of Alice and Charlie Grigg.

"You're better off without her," she said.

He nodded. "I know that, I do." Scratching his nose, he sighed. "But the 14th of February is not a good day if you're alone." Looking up at her, he tilted his head. "I'm sure your date was disappointed, not being able to dance with you."

She felt her face get warm. "I…I didn't have a date. Not this year."

Charles blinked rapidly. "You didn't have a date? I thought that fifth year, Burns, asked you."

The thought that the Head Boy knew the details of her social life made Elsie's heart skip several beats. "Joe. He did…but I said no." She hardly knew why she was telling him this. "We were together last year, but…well, that was last year. I'm not the same girl anymore." She forced herself to look at him. "I'm surprised you didn't have a date."

"Oh…well…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "There wasn't anyone I could ask, really, not even as a friend. And the girls who _did_ ask me…well, I just wasn't interested." He smiled. "Billy Mason offered to go with me as friends. I might have taken him up on the offer, but he and Beryl _finally_ got together, so I let him off the hook."

She laughed, sitting down next to him. "Took them long enough, didn't it?"

They chatted about their friends and their long, drawn-out journey to each other. Conversation slipped easily from Beryl and Billy to the debates coming up, to abusing Philip Tapsell. The cricket team's prospects. She found herself telling him about Becky, something she had never really done, not even with her friends. He listened intently, asking intelligent questions. But he did not pry. She respected that.

When she finished her cigarette, Elsie was tempted to take out another.

Instead, she fished a mint out of the package in her coat pocket. "Would you like one?"

"Sure, thanks." He held out his hand, and she dropped it onto his large palm. They sat quietly for a moment. "I'm glad the vent's off, that was loud."

"Mmm-hmm," she agreed. "We can almost hear the music now." He checked his phone.

"Almost midnight, only a few minutes to go." She was looking out at the night sky, her coat bunched up around her. He thought of earlier in the dance hall.

 _Ask her to dance. Ask her!_

 _She'll laugh at you._

 _No she won't._

He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, she smiled, leaning forward. "I _love_ this song!" Getting up, she spun in a circle next to the vent. Her hair was down, and it whipped in her face, but she didn't seem to care.

" _We were victims of the night_

 _The chemical, physical kryptonite_

 _Helpless to the bass and the fading light_

 _Oh we were bound to be together_

 _Bound to get together_

 _She took my arm_

 _I don't how it happened_

 _We took the floor, and she said…"_

Almost not knowing he did it, he stood up. "Will you dance with me?"

"What?" she asked, still lost in the beat. She came to a stop when she saw his face.

 _Oh my god, he's serious._

"Are you holding back?" he asked, smiling. Her eyes glinted as she raised an eyebrow.

"I guess this is when I tell you to shut up and dance with me."

"Skip the rude words, but I'd like to. If you want," he hesitated, wondering if she was only playing with him.

 _She would never hurt you. Not like Alice._

Elsie gently took his hand. "Of course, I'll dance with you," she muttered, biting her tongue to keep from teasing him further. He put one hand on her left shoulder and the other on her waist. She sucked in her breath.

 _God, I thought you'd_ _never_ _ask._

She let him lead, which surprised him. "Who taught you to dance?"

"My Da," her eyes glittered like the stars. "I love it. He's very liberal, but he says it's important for me to know how."

"In case you should ever dance with a gentleman," Charles teased. He'd danced with many girls before, but not one had ever fit in his arms like Elsie. Even wearing her coat over her dress, she was gorgeous.

The hand at her waist slipped imperceptibly lower. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he brought it back up to its proper place.

"But you're not," she murmured, both rather shocked at him as well as half-pleased. "A gentleman, that is." If any other boy had dared do that, she would have slapped them. Hard.

As it was, she enjoyed it. Although she did have her limits.

"Fortunately," his voice was barely above that of a whisper. Somehow she was even closer to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his back. Before he could think, or lose his nerve, he dipped his head.

He kissed her lips.

She knew he was going to kiss her. The way his eyes had flickered down, how close they were standing. She thought she was prepared.

But _oh_ , the way it felt with his lips against hers. Sliding her hands up, she felt the hair at the nape of his neck. He broke away for an instant.

Before he kissed her again.

Her knees felt weak. It was a good thing his arms were all the way around her, because she didn't think she would be able to stand without them.

 _He is a good kisser. A really. good. kisser._

Nothing had ever come close to the way it felt kissing her. When she hummed as he kissed her the second time, he thought he would lose his mind. It took all the self-control he had to keep his hands on her back. Their lips opened, and he slipped the very tip of his tongue between her teeth. She moaned.

 _That's enough. Don't push her too far._

They broke apart, foreheads together, breathing hard.

"Wow," he panted. His head was spinning, and the rest of him felt as though he'd swallowed several liters of fizzy drink. "Wow. Wowwww...I'm sorry."

"For what?" Her hands were still clasped around his neck. If she let go, she was sure she'd fall over. "Wow," she swallowed, taking a breath. "That was…fantastic." She felt as though there were bubbles inside her, popping away.

"I'm glad…you think…so," he gasped, still trying to get his breath back. And not to notice the way her chest rose and fell. "I'm sorry it took me this long to kiss you. I never thanked you after last autumn, and-"

Elsie covered his lips with two of her fingers. "It was worth the wait, Charles," she murmured, her breath staccato. "No apology is needed." She thought she would explode from sheer joy.

His heart almost stopped beating. "Say it again."

"Say what?" she looked up, confused.

"My name," he closed his eyes, pressed his lips against her forehead. "My god, the way you say my name…"

"Um…Charles," she said, feeling slightly self-conscious. It disappeared when he kissed her again. That time, her knees really did give out, and he caught her.

"Sorry," she giggled, beaming. She leaned against him, stretching her arms as far around him as she could. The rumble of his laughter vibrated in her ear. "Do you know what _your_ voice does to me? Makes me collapse in a puddle."

He pulled back to look her. "I thought it was the kissing, Elsie," he kept his expression formal, but he wagged his eyebrows at her. They both laughed. She touched his face.

"That too."

A distant sound almost like rain distracted them from the activity several minutes later.

"What's that?" she asked as he rubbed her back, his chin on her head. She had forgotten that anything else existed.

"I think the dance is over," he said, fumbling for his phone. The artificial light reflected into his face, and she realized the sound was applause, coming from the open windows below. "12:01. It's the 15th of February, and Valentine's Day is over. Damn," he swore softly, putting it back in his pocket.

"What?" she asked, her arms around him.

He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it, relishing the look on her face. Her eyes almost rolled back in her head at the sensation. He kissed her hand again. "I meant to wish you a Happy Valentine's Day," he said softly. "Also, unfortunately, I have to go. I have to do the rounds, report to the headmistress. If I don't, she'll be suspicious."

"Oh," she frowned, her heart sinking. "Right. Well," she gave him a small smile, "I'll forgive you for _not_ wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day. You had a good excuse. And so did I."

He grinned back at her. "That you did."

"I suppose I should go too," she went to button up her coat. Out of habit, she bit her lip. "When…when will I see you again?"

She kicked herself for sounding like the typical schoolgirl, but didn't know what else to say. If she could have kept the night from ending, she would have.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky, thinking furiously. A cloud uncovered the half-moon. He wanted to spend more time with her. More than anything. "Wait ten minutes after I leave, then come down the staircase. I'll be waiting for you. If you go now, you might get caught." He smiled. "Don't worry, I won't give you away."

After the last half hour, she believed him.

She waited twelve minutes before slipping downstairs. The lights in the science wing were dim, but the familiar outline of the Head Boy leaning against a wall was visible. Hand in hand, they walked through the school.

Neither walked that fast. She thought he was taking her the long way round to the girls' dormitory. The second time they passed the library, she was sure of it.

"It's almost like you don't want to say good night," she whispered. They hadn't seen anyone, but occasionally they had heard footsteps, and once, down a long corridor, they had seen a couple secluded in the semi-darkness, wrapped around each other. Elsie wasn't sure, but they looked suspiciously like John and Anna.

"I don't," Charles whispered, squeezing her hand. He stopped close to the wide doorway of the then-deserted hall, the red light of the Exit sign the only light. Taking her other hand, he pulled her closer.

"Part of me can't believe this has happened," he said. "That it's not all a dream. That…you like me."

"I can't either," she whispered, ghosting her hands up his arms. "You're the Head Boy. Cricket captain, do well on all your exams, loyal to your friends. Any girl would call herself lucky to be with you, and you picked me."

"You," he whispered the rumble of his voice making her shiver, "Elsie Hughes, fifth year, well-known troublemaker. Sexy. Someone with a kind heart, and a fiery temper."

He kissed her again. Slowly, ardently. She gripped his arms, feeling a different kind of fire.

"Have I mentioned," she gasped, "that you are a _damn_ good kisser?"

The shot to his ego caused his smile to split his face. "You see I strive to have high standards in everything."

"Thank God," she whispered.

Eventually, they kept walking. It was so easy to talk about anything. Everything. He confessed that there had been an ulterior motive when he had gone to Headmistress Crawley, and convinced her to double the penalty when students were caught smoking.

"I was thinking of you, you see," he said. "My grandfather smoked a pipe for years. He was diagnosed with lung cancer two years ago. I just…didn't want that to happen to you. Eventually."

"Charles," she shook her head, squeezing his hand, " _anyone_ else would have just told me to stop, not gone to the administration and changed the rules!"

"You didn't strike me as the type to listen if someone told you to _not_ do something." That brought her up short.

She gave him a rueful smile. "Maybe you're right. I should try again, I have tried to quit before," she said. "Anna nags me about it a lot."

"Whatever you need, I'll help you the best I can," he said, sliding his arm around her waist. He knew he was going overboard, thinking about his grandfather, but he couldn't help it. _Smoking's just bad, there are so many things it affects._

He wondered what she would look like in what his mother called middle age. He was sure Elsie would look beautiful, no matter how old she was.

He wondered what he'd look like. _Like my father, probably._

She stifled a yawn against the back of her hand when they passed by the auditorium. "I'm sorry, but I'm dead on my feet," she said.

"No wonder, it's half four," he showed her his phone. He doubted as tired as he was that he would be able to sleep at all.

Walking her up to the doors of the girls' dormitory, both let out a breath in relief when they saw someone had left them slightly ajar.

"Emilia's a nice Head Girl," Charles said, smiling. "Then again, she's got a boyfriend, too…"

"Is that what you are?" she asked. Maybe it was her directness, or her fatigue. Either way, Elsie was not willing to leave the night's progress to chance.

"Your boyfriend?" he looked at the floor. All the insecurity that Alice had left him with seemed to come back. He took a deep breath, and a leap of faith. "I…I'd like that. If you would." His mates would probably laugh, call him old-fashioned. He didn't believe in hooking up. And Elsie deserved better than one night of snogging.

He wanted more than that, too.

"Are you sure?" she didn't want to keep after him, but six hours previously, her greatest hope was that he'd come by the punch table again.

"I have never been so sure," he whispered, pulling her close again.

Tears came to her eyes. "Well, Charles, if you want me for your girlfriend, you can have me."

They kissed for nearly another half an hour before finally pulling apart for the last time. "Good night, Elsie," he whispered into her hair. "Or good morning."

"Both," she sighed, drawing his arms from around her. "Good night, good morning, Charles."

He waited by the door until she was safely inside. She turned back once more, a brilliant smile on her face, blowing him a kiss.

Walking on air back to the boys' dorm, he slept for two hours until his alarm went off, his dreams all of Elsie.

* * *

After Valentine's Day, there were a number of surprising – and not so surprising - things that rocked the student population at Downton.

Joseph Molesley, Exhibit A of "nice guys finish last", asked Phyllis Baxter out. She agreed, and the two were seen everywhere together.

Alice Neal was caught with Dick Carlisle after hours in the dressing rooms. She and Charlie Grigg promptly broke up, only to get back together a few weeks later. They broke up again for good just before graduation.

Tommy Barrow was elected King of the Valentine's Day dance. Refusing to dance with Alice (who had been elected Queen), he instead danced with Jimmy Kent. To raucous applause.

A red rose was left tied to Nurse Crawley's office chair. No one ever confessed to it, but she wore a smile for the rest of term.

On graduation morning, Richard Clarkson found a white carnation in a vase outside his door. With it was a two-word note: _I'll wait._

Charles Carson, seemed to change personalities. He because much more lax regarding lesser rules, and was observed to blatantly ignore some flagrant violations. He did, however, turn in several students who found an unused staircase in the science wing.

Many thought his new girlfriend would have had a greater influence on him.

Elsie Hughes, after two attempts, successfully stopped smoking. She still managed to get sent to detention several times, including once for flashing the Head Boy during an assembly.

Every time, Charles would be waiting for her afterward when she got out.

After the school year ended, workers went to the roof to clean the vent. They found an empty Iphone box with crumpled wrapping paper inside it, and a graduation program. One of the workers accidently stepped on a glass bottle, also empty. It was labeled Cabernet Bosche, Freemark Abbey, Napa Valley, 1999. Red lipstick prints were just visible around its rim. A tiny rectangular note was stuck to the bottom.

 _I thought we should live a little, don't you think?_

 _For my beautiful girl. Love, C_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well, hello there! When this was written back in February, it was intended to just be a fun, fluffy one shot.**

 **Except.**

 **Except people asked for more, and I kept getting little ideas for it, and…here you go. This chapter's a little less fluffy, and delves into a little more challenging areas, but I hope you like it. Writing high school Chelsie is fun.**

 **By the way, I have no idea what would be a suitable detention for the event that happens, so I just made it up.**

 **Shout out to Batwings79, OJBF3, and mjatthebeach in particular for expressing wishes for more of this AU! I hope this lives up to the original chapter! Please review if you have time. Thank you!**

* * *

 _ **Wait on me**_

 _ **I know how to love you**_

 _ **And I want to love you some more**_

 _ **Wait on me…**_

 _ **Take it, take it**_

 _ **I'll give my heart to you for free, girl**_

 _ **Don't you break it, break it**_

 _ **Along with every piece of me, yeah**_

 _ **I'll go the distance**_

 _ **But not all of the way, yeah**_

 _ **Say what you mean to me**_

 _ **And mean what you say…**_

 _ **Say it, say it**_

 _ **I know there's something on your mind, girl**_

 _ **And I hate it, hate it**_

 _ **When you just act like you're okay, yeah**_

 _ **I want to be the one and all that you need…**_

 _ **I'll listen to your heart, I know how it speaks…**_

 _ **If a good thing is what you're waiting for…**_

 _ **Wait on me…**_

 _ **-Rixton, "Wait On Me"**_

* * *

It was the last Thursday in May.

Charles sat nervously on his bed, watching Elsie as she read. He tried not to fidget, to pull on the blanket, but it was difficult.

Her expression was bland. Then, as her eyes moved from one index card to the next, they widened and she gasped.

"Charlie – this is – this is _wonderful!_ "

She had only started calling him Charlie after Easter. In private, of course. He loved it, the way her tongue curved its way around his name... _ohhhh._

How his girlfriend's voice affected him continued to be a surprise. He swallowed, feeling the blood rushing lower through his body.

 _Not_ _ **now**_ _. Pay attention._

"You don't think it's too much?" he asked.

Elsie looked up from his desk chair, one eyebrow raised. "Not at all! Who are you and what have you done to the Head Boy?" she teased. "There was _nothing_ of this in his speech last year!"

He felt himself relax. Laughing, he leaned forward. "Oh, a girl got hold of him. Talked some sense into him."

"'Talked some sense into him'," she quipped. She set the cards on the desk and sat down next to him. "Where was this conversation? In the library?"

"No," he nudged her shoulder with his own before reaching out to touch her face. "It was in the corridor by the main hall…" he gently pressed his lips to hers. "…in the common room in the girls' dormitory..." he whispered, before kissing her again. "…in _my_ room…" he let out a gasp when she hummed into his mouth. "…and-and on the roof-"

He lost the will to speak. Their breathing was the only sound in the room.

Kissing her was _heaven_.

Her arms were wrapped around his head, her fingers in his hair. One of his hands gently cupped her face, and the other gripped her shoulder.

She knew she wasn't ugly, but she had never thought of herself as beautiful. But the way her boyfriend – _Charlie_ – looked at her made her belly feel as though there were a thousand butterflies dancing inside.

And _oh_ , the way he kissed her made her never want him to stop.

Still, when his hand on her shoulder drifted down her side to stop on her thigh, she was both exhilarated and terrified. The closeness of him, the warmth of his hand on her skirt. But she did not break away from his embrace.

She trusted him.

Nothing she had ever done with Joe (and it hadn't been much) had made her feel like she did with Charlie.

She – she _wanted_ to…but a part of her wasn't ready. Charlie never pushed, never went too far, but many times when they would say goodnight, his soft eyes held a heat that she could almost feel.

Someone laughed loudly in the corridor outside. The sound echoed through the half-open door like the snap of a whip.

They broke apart, Elsie's face flushed, Charles breathing hard. He pulled his loosened tie from around his neck, tossing it on the bed. He stood up, unbuttoning the top two buttons on his shirt. It felt like it was choking him.

"It's almost eleven," he muttered.

She got to her feet gingerly, stumbling a little on shaky legs. "I should go."

"I'll walk you back." He stretched, his hands behind his head. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him – curls mussed, the skin beneath his Adam's apple showing, his broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his white shirt.

Clearing her throat, she shook her head. "Not tonight. You need your rest." Their eyes met, and they both grinned. Every time he walked her back to the girls' dorm they ended up kissing in the corridor for another hour at least. "The whole school will hear your speech tomorrow."

He bent over and kissed her again, making sure not to linger on her lips too long. His fingers brushed her waist. "Good night, then," he said. "See you in the morning."

The glow from the lamp on his desk reflected a glimmer of light in her eyes. "Sleep well, Charlie." She squeezed his hand.

He knew she knew he wished she could stay.

He held the door open for her, and she walked out after slipping her shoes back on. They echoed on the wooden floor. He waited until he heard the doors to the main corridor close, separating the boys' dormitory from the rest of Downton.

Closing his door, he leaned against it, his hands pressed to his face. He let out a sound halfway between a groan and a yell.

 _I have to be more careful._

 _Does she have_ _any_ _idea how tempting she is?_

Intelligent, brave, loyal to her friends. To him, she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

At home the previous Christmas, he had drunk a little too much wine that had been left after dinner. He still remembered how it felt before it had made him ill. Wonderful. Exhilarated.

He felt that way kissing Elsie. If the day came that she wanted to do more than kiss…

 _She's not ready. She told you so._

He would have to wait until she was. No matter how long it took.

He could never force her, or guilt her into going further than she was comfortable.

Hopefully it would be worth the wait for her, and for him, he thought as he brushed his teeth. He had never gone farther with anyone, either.

 _I love her._

The hardest thing he had ever done had been telling her the words the first time, without knowing what she thought. He would remember it for the rest of his life. _Standing on the cricket field…_

She'd come to walk with him to dinner after practice one windy evening in April. Not wanting to lose his nerve, he'd taken her hand and blurted it out. His heart in his mouth.

At first, he'd mistaken the tears in her eyes for humiliation. Or disgust. Then she'd laughed, grabbed his other hand and said the most beautiful words he'd ever heard.

" _I love you, too."_

The memory of it made him feel warm. He stripped off his t-shirt and climbed into bed.

* * *

She strode through the empty corridors back to the girls' dormitory, her bottom lip stuck beneath her teeth.

 _It is a_ _very_ _good thing he keeps his door open when I'm there._

 _Not many boys would be so considerate._

If only she could reconcile her own tumultuous feelings – the fear of the unknown, wanting to be responsible (despite her penchant for trouble, she _did_ want to make Mam and Da proud), knowing at a certain level she was not ready for sex, even with Charlie. She wanted to be fair to him as well. He would be graduating soon, and who knew what would happen after?

She didn't want him to feel stuck with her after he'd gone to university.

All of it forgotten every time they kissed. His soft lips, his big body against hers.

 _He never makes me feel weak, or small,_ she thought. _He makes me feel safe._

She stopped and leaned against the wall near the Art room. Sliding her hands down her legs, she thought about him touching her. Her heartrate sped up. Yanking a hand through her hair, she continued down the corridor.

 _He wants me. I want him._

 _Eventually._

Maybe she would feel better if he could have something other than a good snog. But most things she could think of were way more uncomfortable to her than sex. Her face grew hot just thinking about it.

 _You would never want to be vulgar with him. He's not like that._

 _ **You**_ _aren't, either._

 _He wouldn't want…other things._

 _I love him._

The first time she realized she loved him, they had been together for barely a month. It had felt to her like going down stairs and missing one.

It had scared her.

She hadn't known what to do about it until several weeks later and that glorious moment with him holding her hand, his face sweaty and grass stains on his cricket whites.

" _I love you."_

His heart so open to her – it was little wonder that she cried, though she seldom did. She knew how rare a gift she'd been given, and she was beyond happy to tell him that it was returned.

As she hurried to the doors to the dormitory, seeing the Head Girl there holding them open, she thought that what she really wanted was to let him know that she was his, that she trusted him above anyone.

"Last one in," Emilia smiled as she shut the doors. "It's a good thing Charles is strict with curfew."

It hit Elsie later as she brushed her hair in her room. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror.

"You'll get detention," she told herself. "Again."

 _Oh, but it would be worth it. The headmistress won't be pleased, but I haven't been in her office since April._

 _To see the expression on his face!_

"What?" Beryl mumbled from her bed, turning over. "What'd you say?"

"Nothing," Elsie set down her brush and switched off the light. "Good night."

"Night," her friend murmured sleepily.

* * *

Tommy sat nervously, his legs bouncing up and down incessantly as Nurse Crawley looked at his records. Charles resisted the urge to tell him to stop.

He was twitchy, too. _He had to sit out most of the season already! Surely his wrist is healed by now. PLEASE…_

"Well, Mr. Barrow, everything looks in order here," Isobel said, finally looking up and smiling at him. "You're clear to play."

"Really?" Tommy broke into a wide smile, glancing at Charles. "You're not joking, are you?"

"I never would, not when it comes to cricket," her eyes twinkled. "This is a matter of the _highest_ importance, as I'm sure your captain will agree."

Charles let out a breath, smiling at the nurse. "Absolutely. Thank you." The two boys got up and headed for the door. Tommy stopped abruptly, almost making his bigger teammate run into him.

"Is that a real rose, Nurse Crawley? Or a silk one? My mum works at a craft store," he gestured at a vase on the shelf. It held a red rose. "Their silk flowers are really popular."

Isobel's head shot up from her laptop. "It-it's a real one," she stammered, a blush blooming across her face. "I dried it. It seemed…too pretty to just let it wilt and throw away." Her face was almost as red as the rose.

"It looks nice in here," Charles said quickly, ushering Tommy out the door. "All these offices need a little color." The walls were a muted beige.

"Yes," she said, clearly distracted as they left. "Thank you. I'll see you two at the assembly."

Outside the main office in the corridor, Tommy frowned. "She looked embarrassed. I can't think why – she's not _that_ old. So what if she has a boyfriend?"

Charles shrugged, not willing to say anything further in front of his teammate.

"Maybe," Tommy continued, "she has a _girl_ friend, and she doesn't want anyone to know. It's hard to be in the closet."

"Maybe you should go tell _your_ boyfriend you're cleared to play the rest of the season. I'm sure he'd want to know as soon as possible," Charles said lightly, hoping his changing the subject wouldn't be too obvious. Tommy brightened.

"Good idea. It's just half ten now, Jimmy'll be finished with French-" Without another word, he turned and darted down a side corridor, towards the language lab. Charles sighed and headed for the main staircase.

 _I should say something to Richard. It's been nearly three months._

He was glad he'd had a free period, which made it possible for him to go with Tommy to see the nurse. He knew he should have gone over his notes for his speech again, but he'd practiced it so often he could almost say it in his sleep.

A crowd of students were coming down the staircase as he was going up. Charles stopped alongside the railing, craning his neck to see if he could find Richard. He caught a glimpse of his friend, his white-blond hair easily visible. Richard was deep in conversation with Cora. Charles fell into step beside them.

"-for your help, otherwise I would've failed that last exam for sure," the girl's American accent reached his ears through the noise. Richard smiled at her.

"It wasn't any trouble. Anytime you need help, just ask." He looked up and met his friend's gaze.

"Do you have a minute?" Charles asked, nodding at Cora as she went down the stairs, saying hello.

"Do _you?_ " Richard ran a hand through his hair. "You're the one giving a speech in half an hour."

"For this, yes." He gestured to an empty classroom and they went in. Richard set his bag down on a desk.

"What's wrong?"

Charles broke into a grin, feeling extremely happy. "Nothing at all. What's _right_ , now there's the question you should ask."

Richard rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "What's right, then?"

Even though they were alone, and the flood of students had disappeared outside the classroom, Charles lowered his voice. "How a certain nurse feels about you. She's got that rose you left her after Valentine's Day in a vase in her office. She dried it, and kept it. Tommy asked her about it when we were in there just now. Oh, and he's fine. Cleared to play."

His friend went white, then red, not having heard anything of his last few words. "W-what do you mean, the rose _I_ got her? What-what are you talking about-"

"You know what?" Charles laughed. "You're almost as bad a liar as _I_ am." He shook his head. "Your face is as red as hers was."

Richard loosened his tie. "How-how did you know I got her the rose?" he whispered. "I didn't tell anyone. Not even you."

"Phyllis and Elsie saw you with it the day after Valentine's," he replied. "It didn't take much for them to put two and two together after it was found in Isobel's office." Richard went pale once more.

"If _they_ know, then how does _everyone_ not know?" he asked, panic making his voice rise. "It's a wonder Molesley hasn't accidently let it slip-"

"He hasn't, because Phyllis hasn't told him she saw you," Charles reassured him. "And the only person Elsie told was me. In the whole school, the only people who know are the ones _least_ likely to tell. So relax," he slapped Richard on the shoulder. "And enjoy the knowledge that the woman you pine for likes you."

Richard let out a breath. "You said her face was red?" he asked. "Maybe it was just warm in her office-"

"No, the air-conditioning was on full blast. She blushed and stuttered all over the place when Tommy asked her if the rose was real or not. His mum works in a flower shop, or something."

Picking up his bag, Richard followed Charles out into the corridor and down the stairs. The murmur of many students gathering reached their ears as they headed to the main hall.

"She kept it?" the blond boy asked, grabbing his friend's elbow before they went in. "She really still has the rose?"

"Yes," Charles said. Richard's piercing blue eyes bored into his own. "Believe me, it's in her office."

"Thank you for telling me," a smile grew on Richard's face. "That-it means more to me than you can imagine. That she…might _like_ me."

"Oh, I can imagine," the Head Boy said. "I can imagine very well."

* * *

"…and so, though Downton has changed with the times for the better, the Student Council, having conducted surveys with the student body, present our petition to the administration and the Board of Directors. First, we respectfully request that a student representative attend meetings with the Board-"

"Blimey," Beryl whispered as an audible buzz went through the crowd, "I wonder who put _that_ idea into the Head Boy's, erm, head?"

"I'm sure he was persuaded after a lively argument," Anna said from her seat on the other side of Beryl. Elsie wasn't sure she believed her. There was a knowing smile on her blonde friend's face.

"How much persuasion did it take?" Beryl asked Elsie. "Five minutes of kissing – or was it three?"

" _Shhhhh!_ " scolded Phyllis from Elsie's left. "I'm trying to listen!"

"-also ask that any upcoming changes to the curriculum be presented first to the students-"

Elsie smiled proudly as Charlie's baritone swept over the crowd. He seemed unfazed by the reaction he was getting, thanks to all his practice. There was scattered clapping from several spots, and a lot of students kept looking over to the right at the members of the Board of Directors.

The adults did not look like they agreed with the Head Boy's speech.

She gulped, her palms sweaty.

 _Maybe I shouldn't do it. I didn't know_ _they_ _would be here, too._

Her blouse was untucked. It would be easy to make herself presentable. Her eyes flicked to the front, where Headmistress Crawley sat on the stage. She and Charlie were the only two who would see anything. _If_ she went through with it.

Elsie knew the headmistress had seen more shocking things. But she worried that Charlie wouldn't like it, that he'd be angry with her.

"-finally, we ask that changes to the rulebook be voted on by students-"

"Rubbish!" One of the directors, a woman with dyed brown hair, suddenly called out. Violet scowled in her direction. Charles, distracted, stopped talking and did a double-take over to the Board.

"Giving students influence over the rulebook is asking for anarchy!" Another man agreed, glaring at the headmistress as if the speech were _her_ fault.

A storm of protest erupted from the offended students. Several rose out of their seats, shouting. Before things could get too out of hand, Charles grabbed the microphone and raised his voice.

"We _know_ better than to start a riot," he rumbled. "Please be patient! A student assembly will be held next week to discuss the changes-"

"Oh, pipe down boy," sneered an older man. "Who do you think you're talking to? Your fellows won't listen to you-"

But he was wrong. The disgruntled students quieted, and sat back down. Charles fumbled for a moment. Elsie sucked in her breath, clenching her fists, knowing he was trying to find his place once more.

 _You can do it_.

He did, and finished his speech with conviction. He was rewarded by his peers, who seemed determined to roar their approval. Everyone rose to their feet, cheering and clapping. The faculty applauded with respect.

The Head Boy smiled slightly, his eyes moving. He was searching for someone in the tumultuous crowd.

Elsie stood along with everyone else, her eyes shining. A joyful smile appeared on his face.

 _How did I do?_

 _You were wonderful._

And then he saw, even from a distance, a distinct gleam in her eye. Before he could wonder what she was thinking, she climbed onto her seat and pulled up her jumper.

And her blouse.

She wore nothing else underneath.

It was only for a moment; there were immediate whistles and cheers from behind her, where the students were in no doubt as to what she had just done. Elsie had already jumped down from her seat and covered herself by the time students in front of her were turning around. The Board of Directors were in total confusion, none of them having seen what had happened. Neither had the rest of the staff.

The headmistress, already standing due to the end of Charles's speech, bellowed, clearly irate: "Miss _HUGHES!_ "

Elsie hastily tucked her blouse into her skirt, shaking from adrenaline and nerves. She couldn't stop smiling. Beryl laughed. Anna was smiling, but looked more shocked than anything. Phyllis giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

The smile slid off Elsie's face when she saw Nurse Crawley marching down their row towards her. The young woman wore a grim expression. Without a word, she gestured for Elsie to follow her.

Applause and cheers – and several whistles - rained behind them as they exited the hall.

"I suppose you think that was amusing," Isobel said. She opened the door into the main office and pointed to a chair in Violet's office. Elsie sat.

"No," she said, meeting her eyes. "He was brilliant, and he deserved more of an award than a standing ovation. Though he deserved that, too."

Isobel put her hands in her pockets. "Meeting him on the roof later this evening would not be award enough for your boyfriend?" Her face twitched, and Elsie was certain she was trying not to laugh. She gave the nurse a small smile.

" _I_ don't think so."

Isobel shook her head. "Elsie Hughes, you are incorrigible. I thought you were getting _past_ all that. The headmistress looked furious." Her face grew more serious. "That was not the smartest thing to do, and I'm sure you know that."

Elsie nodded. Her hands were still shaking from the rush. Behind her, Violet came in from the corridor.

"Isobel, please go help escort the students out of the main hall," she said. The nurse gave Elsie one last glance before disappearing.

"I know, Miss Hughes, that you did not flash the stage for _my_ benefit," the headmistress slumped into her chair. Elsie knew she should feel more remorse, but instead she had to fight not to giggle over her choice of words.

 _No, it certainly was_ _ **not**_ _for your benefit. His FACE…_

She could still see it in her memory. His mouth in a round "O", his wiry eyebrows up. The shock in his eyes.

Then just before she jumped down from her chair, the corner of his lip curved into a smirk.

She felt herself blush thinking of his expression.

 _He liked what he saw._

"I've never seen Mr. Carson look so shocked," Violet mused. "Or more pleased, for that matter."

The schoolgirl looked up.

"His behavior has always been exemplary. That is part of the reason I made him Head Boy. But he looked entirely too _happy_ at that moment.* Which, I am sure, was your intention." She leaned forward, folding her hands. "Miss Hughes, I had thought you and I were past having these meetings in my office."

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," Elsie replied. Her heart sank a little at what was coming next. A phone call to her parents, and yet another detention. A severe one, no doubt. Violet's face was more serious than she had ever seen it.

The headmistress got up and faced out the window. "I am sorry as well, Elsie."

At the sound of her first name, Elsie's heart went plunging into the floor. _I went too far._

 _Expelled! What was I thinking!?_

Violet turned, her hands behind her back. "I am sorry because at this time I can think of no greater punishment for you than what you will already have next year. And that bothers me. To _not_ punish you for such a stunt would set an appalling example for other students."

Elsie blinked rapidly, her breath shallow.

"Go back to class, Miss Hughes," the headmistress said. "I will talk to you again before the day is over."

Confused, Elsie left. She spent the rest of the afternoon worried, wondering what the headmistress meant.

Halfway through dinner, she knew.

 _Charlie won't be here next year._

* * *

"Carson! That was great! Way to show the Board!" Charles waved at several boys sitting in the corner of the common room.

"Thanks," he said. Robert was coming in as he walked out.

His friend gave him a punch on the shoulder. "Where are _you_ going?" He looked around to see if anyone was near and lowered his voice. "Come to my room in five minutes. I may or may not have a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild. I know, I know," he held up his hands. "You are not a fan of the French, but their wine-"

"I appreciate the offer, but I can't accept," Charles repressed the urge to berate the prefect for having alcohol in his room. _He needs another warning. But is it worth it? Graduation is not far off._ "Sorry."

He walked down the main staircase and headed up the other side. John and Anna sat at the top of the stairs, talking and holding hands.

"She's not in the dorm," Anna said. "None of us have seen her since dinner." Charles stopped a couple of stairs below them.

"She's not?" His shoulders slumped. "Where _is_ she? I can't find her."

He trudged back down and wandered into the main corridor. He hadn't seen Elsie since the assembly, and he was really starting to worry.

 _Detention, yes. But she wouldn't have gotten expelled for it._

 _Would she?_

"Good evening, Mr. Carson." Violet walked towards him, coming from the main entrance at the front of the school. A janitor mopped the floor behind her in the dim light of the EXIT signs. "It's a bit early to do the rounds, especially on a Friday night. Don't you think so?"

"I'm not patrolling, Headmistress."

"Oh?" she asked, crossing her arms. She was no longer wearing the severe uniform she wore during the day. Instead she was in casual trousers and shirt, wearing slippers. The jumper she wore looked soft and worn. "What are you doing?"

He knew better than to beat around the bush. "I can't find Elsie anywhere." The word was meant literally – he'd checked the roof, too.

Violet blinked at him, her expression inscrutable. He swallowed.

"You-you didn't expel her, did you?"

The headmistress put a hand on his arm. "Come with me, Charles."

* * *

Elsie lifted the lid on another cardboard box. The inside had a fine layer of dust, which was disturbed when she reached inside.

" _Achoo!_ "

She'd lost count of the times she'd sneezed in this room, and she'd only been in here since dinner. Sniffing, she grabbed another tissue and dabbed her nose, glancing at the clock on the wall.

An hour and a half.

 _And I have to stay until midnight._

 _Tomorrow night too. And every day for the rest of term, except for Sundays._

She sighed.

At least the headmistress had allowed her to play music. Adele sang softly from her phone, which was plugged in and resting on the wooden table in the other corner of the small room. She returned her attention to the contents of the box.

Old class lists, pictures of numerous cricket team members from years gone by. Typed notes from student council meetings. All of it had to be sorted and put in some kind of order. It was enough to make Elsie scream with boredom.

Lifting out a framed picture, she cautiously wiped at the thick dust on the glass with her finger. At the bottom of the frame was a tiny engraving.

 _J. Carter, Senior. Captain, 1966._

It was a black and white picture, but she could tell the sun was shining by the light on the grass. The boy posed proudly with his bat. Elsie studied him for a moment, feeling an ache in her heart.

 _I wonder if he had a girlfriend when he graduated._

 _And if they stayed together._

The door creaked open. She set aside the picture, looking up from the floor. The headmistress poked her head inside.

"How are you doing, Miss Hughes? Ah – already through several boxes? Good."

"Yes, Headmistress."

"Well." Violet leaned on the doorframe. "I can't say that Miss O'Brien will show much appreciation, no matter how much work you do. She's been trying to organize the archives for the last four years. In her spare time, of course."

Elsie glanced at the large bookcase, with its one and a half rows of files and pictures.

"She must not get much of that," she murmured. Or, she thought, the school secretary found the task as deadly boring as Elsie did, and dragged her feet. _That's more likely._

"No. But she does occasionally have help," Violet admitted. "Sometimes my cousin takes pity on her and helps. Isobel is the one who finished the row, there." She pointed at the filled top shelf. There were neat tabs showing the alphabetical order, as well as items by year.

"Hmmm," Elsie looked down once more. She moved the picture of Mr. Carter and his unknown relationship status onto the pile of pictures.

"Someone has volunteered to help you." Violet moved aside, letting Charles through the door. Elsie's heart gave a great leap, and she couldn't help smiling for the first time in hours.

"Now I expect that there _will_ be progress made when you leave this evening, Miss Hughes. I will be back here at midnight," the headmistress continued. "And Mr. Carson, I expect you to make your usual patrol, and report to me before you go to bed."

"Yes, Headmistress," they both said before she closed the door behind Charles.

There was a moment of silence.

"What are you doing here?" Elsie asked. "I mean, I'm _very_ glad to see you," she said quickly, "but this is _my_ detention, not yours!"

Charles moved a stack of old yearbooks aside and sat down next to her. "She told me you'd have to do this every night until the end of term. When would I ever see you?" he asked, reaching into the box and pulling out what looked like speeches from the Debating Society.

"But-but cricket practice-"

"Is four days a week, and is usually over by eight," he reminded her. "That's still four hours until midnight." He scowled at the pages in his hands. "Good Lord, these aren't in any sort of order. 1947, then 1959? 1941…1963…"

"Charlie," Elsie whispered, feeling horribly guilty. "I can't take up all your time. You've only got a few weeks left. Go out, enjoy the weather. Hang out with Robert and Richard, all your other friends."

He shuffled the pages in his large hands. "Don't say you're going off me." He said it jokingly, but there was a tone in his voice she recognized immediately.

"Of course not!" She felt her voice wobble. "But if anything, you're the one who _should_ be going off me. Come September, you'll be at Cambridge-"

Alarmed, he stared at her. "Are you breaking up with me?"

She felt as though her heart was shattering. "N-no," she whispered. Everything that had been going through her head all day was on the tip of her tongue. "But how is this – how are _we_ \- supposed to work? You'll be in Cambridge in a few months, and I'll still be here for two more years." She sniffed and grabbed another tissue.

Charles looked at her, lost. "I don't know," he said quietly. "But we're in the twenty-first century. We've got phones, Skype, email. Everything."

"This isn't about that," her voice was muffled against the tissue. "I _know_ we can still talk. But will you want to? You'll be at university, meeting all kinds of new people. Other women," she said, hating herself for feeling jealous of perfect strangers. "What would it feel like, telling everyone you won't date because you've got a girlfriend still at school? It's ridiculous."

"You think I care about what other people think?" he asked. He was incredulous. "Elsie, _you've_ taught me to push my own boundaries, to not be afraid of being who I am. You've done that ever since last autumn, really. When you found me in the rain." He smiled, hoping to reassure her. "I'm a lad from Yorkshire, with working class parents. I love cricket, Shakespeare, and apple tart any time I can get my hands on it. I _despise_ Ant and Dec," he grinned when she laughed, "and I love a Scottish girl from Argyll. That's not going to change. No matter where I go, or how far I am from her."

Elsie held back a sob. "Now you're trying to make me cry," she whispered. She felt as though her heart were going to overflow.

"Come here," he said, standing up and holding out his arms. She crumpled the tissue and tossed it in the bin before being swallowed in his embrace.

She felt braver without having to look him in the face. "I'm not ready," she said against his chest. "Yet."

He knew what she meant without asking. "And that's all right," he rubbed her back. "I decided a long time ago the first time I had sex, it would be with a girl I loved. And only if she loved me back." He brushed his lips on the top of her head. "I've waited eighteen years so far, I can wait some more."

"You make it sound like a prison sentence," she said dryly. "You might change your mind. At Cambridge."

"Elsie May Hughes, are you saying I'll give in to the temptation of university girls?" He frowned, lifting her chin with his finger. "Look, I'm not a saint, but _I love you_ ," he rumbled, making sure she looked at him.

"And I love you for saying it," she bit her lip. "But it's not fair to you to have me holding you back. In any way."

"You're not. I want you," he said simply. He leaned over and kissed her once, then twice. Deeply. "I want _you_ ," he repeated, whispering against her cheek. He finished with a gentle kiss to her forehead. "No one else. If that makes me old-fashioned, so be it."

Elsie felt herself relax in his arms, his words warming her insides as much as his kisses had warmed her on the outside. "If we're arguing who's more old-fashioned," she joked, running a hand up his arm. "Then I can make a strong case for it. 'Elsie _May?_ ' I never should have told you my middle name!"

"That was your fault," he grinned, wagging his thick eyebrows. "Insisting on playing Truth or Dare."

That memory reminded Elsie of the events of the morning, and to why they were standing in an old storage room to begin with. From the look on his face, he was thinking of it too. A hot blush reddened her cheeks.

"About this morning-"

"Thank you," he murmured, smiling wider at her embarrassment. "Very much. That was an unexpected, but very enjoyable gift you gave me. Mmmm...you have lovely breasts, Miss Hughes. Like the rest of you."

She buried her head in his shoulder, her face on fire. His body vibrated as he laughed. "I will remember that sight for a long time. It'll keep me warm at Magdalene."

Another song was playing. Charles started swaying back and forth, singing under his breath.

 _Come along with me and don't be scared_

 _I just wanna set you free_

 _Come on, come on, come on_

 _You and me can make it anywhere_

 _For now, we can stay here for a while…_

' _Cause you know, I just wanna see you smile_

 _No matter where you go_

 _You know you're not alone_

 _I'm only one call away…_

"I didn't know you were a fan of Charlie Puth," she said, smiling up at him. She tried not to think about having to call him to hear his voice. He smiled back, seeing the uncertainty flash across her face.

"Of course. He's got the best name in the world." He hugged her close, his mouth at her ear. "It'll be a different life, come autumn. I know."

"But we can make a go of it, Charlie," she murmured back. "And I definitely mean to try."

She meant it with all her heart.

They made their way through countless boxes over the last few weeks of term. One of their favorite finds later in June was an old photo album from the early twentieth century.

"The headmistress says there is a family connection," Elsie said one evening as she looked at it again. "Distant cousins. Though this…Matthew Crawley doesn't look anything like her," she pointed at one picture as Charles looked over her shoulder. The young man had fair hair. "Or his fiancé either," she said, gazing at the young woman with him. "She was another cousin. Mary."

"Nurse Crawley has dark eyes too," Charles commented, his eyes on the dark-haired, rather haughty looking girl holding the umbrella next to Matthew. "But that's the only thing they have in common, I think."

"He's wearing cricket whites in this picture," Elsie turned the page. "I wonder…did Downton have cheerleaders in 1920?"

"If they did, could you imagine her as a cheerleader?" Charles asked, grinning. "Jumping up and down, waving pom-poms in the air-"

"Doing cartwheels in that dress-" They dissolved into laughter.

By the time the school year ended, four more rows on the bookcase had been filled.

* * *

She pushed against the door with her shoulder. It squeaked loudly, the sound echoing down the staircase, but she didn't care. There was no need to worry about getting caught.

Not today.

Bright clouds moved slowly through the blue sky above the roof. The air was warm. Nothing like that night back in February.

Charles stood with his back to the door, still wearing his gown. She set down the wrapped box she was carrying.

"I thought you'd be up here."

He turned and smiled at her. "Is Mum asking for me?"

"No," Elsie linked her arm through his. "She and your father were talking to Beryl, her parents, and Billy when I left."

He nodded. "I just wanted to come up here one more time. I know I'll be back, but…it won't be the same."

Elsie squeezed his arm. It was true, and they both knew it. "It's too bad," she said after a pause, "that there isn't a dance going on downstairs again. I would have liked to dance on the roof with you again."

He wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her so they faced each other. "Who says we need music to dance?"

She laughed as he started to do what looked like a two-step. "You've always had the reputation of being Mr. Serious – what would they all say downstairs if they saw you now?"

"It's an act," he said, a little smile playing on his lips as they danced to a silent melody. "Only you know better. And," he raised his eyebrows, "Becky, of course."

"She's _so_ excited to see you in a few weeks. I think she likes you better than me!" Charles was joining Elsie and her family on holiday in Cornwall later in July. Ever since he'd met Becky, the two had got on like a house on fire.

"I like her," Charles smiled. "How could I not? She's a real sweetheart. And I'm glad you changed your mind about joining us in France afterwards," he said softly. "You will _not_ be an imposition at all, Mum's really keen you have you come along. Dad kept saying during breakfast, 'If I have to muzzle my sister while we're there, so be it'."

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it, making her breath hitch. "Aunt Cecilia isn't _mean_ , she's just the most curious woman alive. Don't worry. If she asks too many personal questions, I or my parents will rescue you." He rubbed his thumb over her hand. "They love you, you know."

Elsie blushed, looking down. "That's an exaggeration, I'm sure. They're very kind, but I've only met them twice."

"It isn't an exaggeration," he said, pulling her closer. "They do. Not in the same way I do, of course-" He dipped his head and kissed her. Kissed her as she hummed, her hand on the back of his neck. Kissed her until she breathed his name. Kissed her until she gasped for air.

They stood not speaking for a little while they both caught their breath.

"You are," she gasped, her heart pounding, " _such_ a good kisser."

"You're not bad yourself," he panted. He took a little step back, but kept his arms around her.

She smoothed down the front of his gown. "I have something for you." Taking his hand, she led him over to the vent, where they sat down. She handed him the box she'd brought.

He tore the paper off and looked at her in shock. "You _didn't_ – Elsie, this is too much-"

"It is _not_ ," she argued, raising her eyebrows. "Your phone is nearly dead. And it's not even a smart phone! Your mum said you refused to accept one from her and your dad, but you wouldn't refuse a new Iphone from me." She tilted her head. "I'm glad to give you this. You _deserve_ it. And," her eyes twinkled, "To be honest, it's partially for me. Just talking to you on the phone won't be enough for me this autumn. It'll be nice to _see_ you too, even if it's on a tiny screen."

"Yes it will," he said, leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips. He let out a breath and looked at the phone again. " _Thank_ you."

Charles had a surprise for her as well. She loved the California wine he'd brought to share, and they toasted his graduation, finishing the bottle before leaving the roof.

After sharing one last kiss.

* * *

It was very strange for Elsie to return to Downton that autumn. At times she felt rather lonely, despite still having a lot of friends there.

She and Charlie talked every night, and made sure to FaceTime at least twice a week.

Most of the time she was fine. She wasn't the type of girl to pine away, and she was practical enough to know that this was life. _We can't be together ALL the time, and neither of us would want that._

But she missed him. Terribly. And not just because he was her boyfriend _._

He was her best friend, too.

She found solace in staying busy. Phyllis, Joe, John, ever-faithful Anna, Tommy, and Jimmy kept her laughing, and listened when she had bad days.

But a chance encounter one cold October evening provided a different source of comfort. Although she had managed to not get a detention (having promised Mam, Da and Charlie), she ended up spending at least one night a week in the storage room, filing old lists and organizing pictures for the archives.

"You really don't have to help me," Isobel said the second time Elsie had joined her. "You did a tremendous amount of work last term, and that was under duress. Surely you have better things to do."

"I don't mind," Elsie replied, breaking down a box and tossing it in the corner for recycling. "It's interesting going through and seeing things from Downton's past." She sat down and began sifting through a miscellaneous stack of papers.

"Yes, it is," the nurse agreed, giving her a keen glance. She held up a picture of a group of students and faculty from the 1980s. They looked like they'd been engaged in a food fight, and she and Elsie both giggled at their expressions. "No matter the time period, we're all human," Isobel shook her head and set the picture down.

Pretending to read the page of student council names from 1974, Elsie wondered if she dared say anything.

 _It's not really a secret. Not with me._

She had a feeling that Isobel was aware she knew.

"Do you miss him?" she asked, not looking up.

It was so quiet the only sound she could hear was the DJ on Radio 1.

"Of course I miss Richard," Isobel said, surprising Elsie with her candor. She sat back in her chair. "Especially since we didn't have a chance to really speak to each other until after graduation."

"Does he like Edinburgh?" Elsie continued. She wondered if it was wise pressing her luck, but if Isobel was willing to talk freely with her, why not?

"Very much. His cousin David is in his third year, so he's had an easier time adapting than most. How does Charles like Cambridge?"

Elsie looked up, and the two stared at each other.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Isobel asked, her voice gentle. "I'm not offended if you are. I can hardly talk about Richard with anyone else here. And as much as your friends like Charles, you likely don't talk about him nearly as much as you would wish to. And definitely not as often as you think about him."

"That is…very true," Elsie admitted. "I don't want to be _that_ girl. Always going on about her absent boyfriend."

"Well," Isobel adjusted her glasses, "as long as we confine the conversation to this room, I don't mind how much you talk about Charles. As long as _I_ can talk about Richard. From time to time." She smiled at the schoolgirl. "I miss _my_ boyfriend too."

From then on, Elsie made a habit of stopping by the storage room regularly to help her. She and Isobel continued their conversations, becoming friends in the process.

Their boyfriends were delighted.

* * *

 **A/N: *This line was inspired by Maggie Smith in** _ **Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince.**_

 **The other song mentioned is Charlie Puth's "One Call Away".**

 **I've got a rough outline to the rest of this story. There will likely be one, maybe two more parts. I have other fics to do, so it may be awhile before it's finished. I hope that this second chapter assures people I don't forget about stories, no matter how long it's been since I've posted.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **Aaaaaannnnddddd…I went a little crazy on the word count. Again. So much to say, so little time.**

 **This chapter is M, despite my best efforts. They're young in this story, so I tried to be as delicate as possible. I'm sorry if I disappointed anyone.**

 **A quick word about this fic and the Richobel fic, "Wait For Me". Chronologically, what happened in that fic happened** _ **before**_ **the events of this chapter. None of that is specifically alluded to here (though it's guessed at by Charles and Elsie). I've tried to keep it so that if you don't want to read that fic, you don't have to. I appreciate anyone reading my stuff, and I understand how busy people are. I don't mean to make things more complicated than necessary.**

 **In the last chapter, Charles talks about how he'll be going to Magdalene College, at Cambridge. Part of the reason I picked that particular place for him is because it's…traditional. It was the last college at Cambridge to admit women. Not that I think modern Charles is a misogynist (he couldn't be and still have Elsie love him), but it seemed to suit him.** _ **After**_ **I posted the last chapter, I found out that Magdalene is famous (among other things) for its May Ball. It's held every other year, and is an extravagant affair (as all the balls seem to be). They are one of only two colleges (that I found) where white tie is required. Check one for Chelsie. THEN I found out at their last ball in 2015, the Fratellis, the Glasgow-based band, was their headlining band. A couple clicks of the mouse found me listening to one of their hits, "Chelsea Dagger". Sometimes things just fall into my lap. I swear.**

 **One more thing about the ball – in real life, no one under eighteen is allowed to attend, so Elsie would certainly** _ **not**_ **be able to go.**

 **Peter and Mei are tributes to two university friends of mine. Charles needed friends outside of Downton. And I like Gwendoline Christie, and Game of Thrones. And Harry Potter. Not NEARLY as much as Downton, of course.**

 **The Robert Burns poem Charles quotes from is called "A Fond Kiss". It's actually a sad poem, but I adored those two particular lines.**

 **Reminder – I do NOT own Downton Abbey, or its characters. Some of them and their dialogue are too good to pass up.**

 **Please leave a review if you have time!**

* * *

Charles flopped down on his bed.

 _Finally._

 _Finished._

 _One year at Cambridge._

His door burst open. "Helloooo, it's meeeee…I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meeeeeet…"

A woman laughed, cutting off the fine tenor singing. "Peter, honestly! Do you _want_ him to throw you out the window!?"

Despite himself, Charles laughed. His eyes still on the ceiling, he called to the familiar pair.

"Get in here, Webb. You're lucky your girlfriend came with you." He sat up and tried to smooth down his hair without success. "Good to see you, Mei. Were you watching for me to come back after my last exam?"

" _He_ was," Mei Ting threw an arm around her ginger-haired partner. She gave Peter an affectionate kiss. "He kept jumping up every five minutes for the last hour." Grinning, she launched into an imitation. "'We've got to make sure we get to Charles Carson _before_ he shuts himself into his room until Saturday night! I promised to take him out for a drink after his exams! The poor boy's been working so hard, he deserves a relaxing evening-'"

"All right," Peter clapped a hand over her mouth. "I think our Yorkshire friend gets the point." He let go of Mei and smiled at Charles. "Don't make us _drag_ you out of here."

"No, no," Charles got to his feet. "I'll spare you the embarrassment of trying."

Mei laughed. "You know us well." She barely came up to Peter's shoulder, and Peter was easily half a head shorter than Charles. And not nearly as broad.

The three left Charles's room in Benson Court. A short time later they were tucked into a pub. Charles mostly sipped his Einstok while Peter told outrageous stories about his days at Westminster – most of which, Charles had learned of his friend, were likely true.

It was a friendship he never would have envisaged having at Downton. On paper, they were nothing alike. Peter's father had made his fortune in the City, and had made sure his children had the finest educations possible. Peter's mother, divorced from his father since Peter was ten, was the daughter of a Marquess.

The world that Charles's friend spoke of so casually – a former Russian supermodel as a stepmother, staying with his grandparents at their ancestral home, Brancaster – masked Peter's fundamentally pleasant nature. Beneath his affluent background and frenetic energy was a young man who genuinely cared about his family and friends.

Including Charles.

Ever since Charles had met him the first week at Magdalene, Peter had taken him under his wing. He would often stop by his room in the autumn on weeknights, and refuse to leave until Charles went with him to join a study group in the common room or to get a drink.

Had it not been for him, Charles had told Elsie, he would have died of loneliness. It still perplexed him as to why someone like his outgoing friend would have anything to do with _him._

His statement made his girlfriend indignant. _Why not you,_ she had asked him. _You're a decent, kind person, who values simple things. And so does Peter. Obviously, you have something that his other friends don't have!_

She was delighted Charles had good friends at Cambridge.

Mei got up after half an hour to visit the loo. Peter watched her go, his eyes soft. He then caught Charles looking at him, eyebrows raised. He forced a laugh, lifting his half-empty glass.

"A toast, Carson. To finishing our first year at Magdalene in one piece, and to the women who made it possible."

Charles clinked his glass. "And to friends we lean on."

Peter nodded, threw back another swallow and set down his glass. He tapped his long fingers on the table as though he was playing a piano.

"I never would have gotten through without Mei. And you. I probably would have dropped out in October if not for both of you."

"Give the credit to your lovely lady, not to me," Charles protested. "If anything, the two of you helped _me_ get through. I…don't make friends easily, as you know," his dark eyes twinkled as Peter smiled in agreement. "I would have never gone anywhere, stayed locked in my room. Been thoroughly miserable. I would've dropped out, and gone back home with my tail firmly between my legs-"

"And been met by a furious Scottish dragon if you had, no doubt," Peter laughed and beat a tune with his thumbs.

At the thought of Elsie, Charles's heart skipped. _Only a few more days, and she'll be here!_

"I should hold up a mirror," his friend said. "Underneath it would be the caption, 'THIS IS WHAT A HAPPY MAN LOOKS LIKE'. _Almost_ as happy as I am," he joked.

"That's debatable. But you're a lucky man, true enough. How a pretty woman like Mei ended up with a freckly ginger is beyond me…"

"Be careful," Peter warned. He took another drink of his beer. "Have you forgotten we've met your bonny lass? She of the auburn locks…whether or not she has freckles, I can't say, of course," he mused. "I could ask her what she thinks of _your_ prominent nose and bushy eyebrows!"

"Talking about me?" Mei asked, slipping back into her seat beside Peter. "I know I have a big nose, and my eyebrows are legendary."

She raised a perfectly tweezed one at Peter. He took her hand and loudly kissed it with a loud smack of his lips.

"Normally, my lady, I would praise your eyebrows over all others. But our dear friend here must reign supreme on the matter."

"Sir Freckles, are you giving our poor Squire Carson a hard time?" Laughing, she addressed Charles. "'Tis true, he does have a prodigious brow, crowned with what appears to be furry caterpillars." She sounded uncannily like Gwendoline Christie. "It makes one wonder how he has been able to woo a charming lady from the northern kingdom."

Charles fought not to laugh. By now he was well used to their banter, including their alter egos who occasionally made appearances at the most random times. "You, Lady Waters, would know better than I," he joshed, playing along. "You've spoken with her, seen her in her gown-"

"Oh, I _knew_ you'd bring that up," Mei cried, breaking character. " _Again_." She shook her head at Charles fondly. "You are not getting a _single_ detail from me as to her appearance on Saturday. You will just. Have. To. Wait."

The three sat for a while longer, talking about the upcoming May Ball.

It would be a night to remember.

Charles felt his stomach churn with anticipation. Not just for the ball. He and Elsie both were excited about it, but they had also talked about their faithfulness to each other in the last few months. What Elsie had said to him, kept running through his mind.

 _I'm ready to take the next step if you are. We love each other, and there is no one I trust more._

 _When we're together in June, I'm yours._

* * *

Anna squealed as she scrolled through the pictures, Phyllis and Beryl looking over her shoulder.

"Oh Elsie, you look _gorgeous_ ," she gushed. "I love the color!"

"Charles is going to fall over when he sees you in this," Phyllis smiled, her dark eyes shining.

"Never mind falling over, he'll be lucky if he can put one foot in front of the other! Personally, I'm glad you went with a strapless dress," Beryl grinned, nudging Anna. "I'm with you, the color's perfect."

Elsie felt her face get warm. She curled her legs under her, sitting on the bed. "You're all too sweet. Thank you, but I'll hardly be the most beautiful person there!"

"Hush," Anna glared at her. "You'll be the most beautiful person to Charles. That's the most important thing. And don't put yourself down – you're quite pretty, Elsie May, as you well know!"

"Hear, hear," Phyllis and Beryl said in the same breath.

They scrolled through the rest of the pictures on Elsie's phone, commenting on her gown as well as Mei's, and the different hairstyles they had tried. Anna said she was only sorry she wouldn't be there to do Elsie's hair for her.

Laughing loudly, the four were interrupted by a knock on the door. Beryl sighed, checking the time.

"Right. Well it's time for me to bid my fair adieus," she stood up reluctantly, giving Phyllis a hug, then Anna. "It's too bad Laura isn't as lenient as Head Girl as Emilia was – quite the stickler for the rules, isn't she?"

"Yes," Elsie agreed. "But I've had no reason to get on her bad side. This year I've hardly broken curfew _once_."

"I wonder why," Beryl said, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Come on, walk me to the front door. It's damn creepy walking the dark corridors by myself." Saying good night to the other two, she and Elsie walked out of the girls' dorm.

"Be back by midnight," Laura reminded Elsie on their way out. "I don't want to be woken up because you lost track of time."

"Blimey," Beryl said under her breath when they were a safe distance away, "she's got a personality that rivals Miss O'Brien."

"Not surprising," Elsie stifled a laugh, "seeing as she's her niece." They continued walking in silence down the corridors, down stairs and into the main corridor by the hall. It was very quiet, not another person about, and Elsie didn't like to think about the walk she'd have to take alone back up to the dorm.

She couldn't help sighing as they passed the dark storage room.

"Is the nurse-I mean Isobel," Beryl stumbled over the words, shaking her head, "Sorry, I can't seem to think of her by her first name. Anyway, is she still being distant? With you, I mean?"

Elsie nodded. "She's not been rude at all, nothing like that. But we-well, we _were_ getting to be fairly close friends. But for the last few months, since half-term really, I've barely seen her except in the usual settings. Assemblies, and such." _It's like she's avoiding me._

"Do you think she and Richard broke up? And she doesn't want to talk about it?" Beryl whispered despite their solitude.

"They _haven't_ broken up. Charles asked Richard about it recently, and he said they were still together. He clammed up, though, when Charlie asked him how they were. I don't know," Elsie shrugged.

Privately, she worried about Isobel. The nurse often looked preoccupied, and had taken to biting her nails, something Elsie knew she had never done before. Clearly, something was up. And she knew Charlie was worried about Richard, despite being so far away.

After the school year was over, then they would have a chance to talk.

The front doors loomed in front of them.

"You're not parked too far, are you?" Elsie asked, pulling her cardigan closer around her torso. The evening air wasn't cold, but it was damp after the rain.

"No, Mum's car is right over there under the light," Beryl pointed, fishing her keys out of her purse.

"Well, I won't keep you anymore. It was good of you to come up tonight and see us," Elsie gave her friend a hug. "I've got to get back upstairs before Laura thinks I've reverted to my old ways."

"Before you do," Beryl twisted her keys in her hand. "I wish you'd tell me what's wrong."

Elsie stood up a little straighter. "Whatever makes you say that?"

Her shorter friend gave her a beaded look that Elsie could see even in the dim view of the red EXIT sign above them, and she gave in.

"You'll say I'm being stupid," she said quietly, folding her arms.

"Well, maybe you are," Beryl replied.

Maybe she was. The fact was Elsie knew she had to talk to _someone_ about it. Her first choice would have been Isobel, but for whatever reason, the older woman was out of reach at the moment. Her other friends would have had more sensitivity dealing with the subject.

However, when it came to sex Elsie couldn't imagine talking to anyone else about it, other than Beryl. She was almost certain Anna was still a virgin, although she'd overheard John call her a 'naughty girl' before the Valentines' Day dance. _Whatever that means._ The same went for Phyllis, though Elsie _really_ didn't like to think about sex and Joseph Molesley in the same thought, as the sensation made her want to simultaneously gag and laugh at the same time.

 _And I can't talk to Mam. She likes Charlie, but she'd say I'm too young._

So that left Beryl.

"You see," she began, looking down at the floor, "when I go to Cambridge this weekend, it won't be just for the May Ball. Charlie and I…well, we've been together for over a year now, and…" She trailed off, not finding the words. Beryl looked befuddled. She tried again. "…and, well, we love each other, and we-we wanted to-to _share_ that. I told him it was the right time…but as the time gets closer, I-I'm finding I'm terribly _nervous_ ," she rushed, "and-and was wondering if you could give me some advice."

"Sharing…" Beryl began, still looking puzzled. Then her eyes widened at Elsie's expression. "Oh, my Lord. You mean…"

"Yes," Elsie blurted out. "That is _precisely_ what I mean." Swallowing, Beryl tried to muster her own thoughts together.

"Well, there's nothing so terrible about it, is there? So they say. For most people, anyway. Not for me and Billy, I can tell you that," she twirled her keys on one finger, swaying from one foot to the other. "Quite the opposite. I thought I'd killed him the first night we made love. The way he yelled-"

Elsie felt as though she was melting into the floor. She covered her face with her hand.

 _This is why you DIDN'T want to ask her._

"-I thought he'd be heard over in Leeds! Then there was me. Lord, I've never felt anything more divine, I don't mind saying. When he put his hands on my-"

It was absolutely necessary to stop her before she went into any more disturbing detail.

"Never mind! Beryl, look at me," interrupted Elsie, her face florid, "I'm a skinny girl with _no_ experience, who blushes if someone looks at me cross-eyed. The last thing I want is for him to not like what he sees."

"Oh. Perhaps you can keep the lights off," her friend suggested. "It's not required to _look_ at each other, you know-"

"That is not helpful," Elsie huffed, though she'd thought of the same thing several times. She was not convinced Charlie would be happy to do everything in the dark.

And neither was she, really. She did want to see him… _all_ of him. But it was just getting the nerve to do so.

Beryl seemed to read her mind. "It's not like _he's_ had a great deal of experience, either," she said. "If I had to guess, I would say he's had as much as you. And he's likely just as nervous for you to see him. The last person to see him naked was probably his mum, when he was tiny."

"Good point," Elsie took a breath. "Very good point."

"Look," Beryl took a step closer. "You want my advice. I'd like to tell you it'll all be fireworks and grand romance with a symphony orchestra playing in the background. But at the beginning, you need to be prepared for a fair bit of fumbling and messiness. It's not _all_ bad, o' course, if Mister Big Hands knows what to do with them, as well as other aspects of his anatomy, he should be able to please _you_ enough."

"It's not about that," Elsie yanked a hand through her hair, automatically worrying that she hadn't thought about _his_ part of it. _Don't think about his hands right now. Or anything else._ "What if-what if _I_ can't please him? What if he…doesn't _like_ it…with me?"

"Elsie," Beryl shook her arm. "You're thinking about this too much. God, the last thing you should think is that you won't please him. The first time he can put his hands on your bare chest, he'll be in heaven. Most men lose all their reason when they see a woman's breasts…of course, he's seen yours," she pursed her lips. "He's been waiting a long time to do anything more than look at them, or snog you. As long as he doesn't lose _everything_ when he sees you naked, you'll be fine."

She didn't need to go into more detail for Elsie to know what she meant.

She wasn't entirely naïve. _I haven't been brought up in a sack!_ Still, she bit her lip. "But is there something _I_ should…do…"

Beryl sighed, thinking. "If I know anything about your man, it's that he's a traditionalist. And so are you, when it comes to it." She reached over, her hands on Elsie's arms. "I know it'll be a bit uncomfortable for you, because you'll both be nervous, but try to be a little…bold with him. I know you won't go crazy. Just…try and encourage him a bit." She laughed. "What you _won't_ want is for him to freeze up and just stare at you all night. I know you wish I could give you a 'how-to' list or some such thing, but I can't. Just kiss him, and love on him like you have been, and the rest will follow."

She paused, her eyes on her friend's face. "Right. Something practical. If you need to know where to find a good lubricant, try-"

Playfully swatting her friend on the back, Elsie opened the heavy door and pushed Beryl towards it. " _Go!_ Thank you for the advice, but I think I've heard enough!"

"Good luck!" Beryl called back on her way to the car. "Have fun at the ball! Tell Charles I said hello – but not when, you know, you're taking his clothes off!"

Walking back to the dorm, Elsie thought it was a good thing Phyllis knew ways around the Internet protections on the school computers. She still didn't have a great idea as to what, exactly, she needed to know, but she knew she would want to delete her search history after she was finished.

A couple of hours later, after reading several eye-opening articles from _Cosmopolitan_ , and falling down a rabbit hole of fanfiction, she went to bed feeling a little more relaxed about everything.

And she looked forward to seeing her boyfriend in a few days.

* * *

Holding his phone on top of his knees in front of him, Charles sat with his back against the wall. He watched Richard on the screen.

His friend in Edinburgh was clearly tired, his usually bright blue eyes rather dull. But he leaned on his elbows, his chin resting on his fingers, his gaze not leaving Charles's.

" _So…Elsie will be coming this Friday? And staying the weekend?"_

"Yes," Charles said. He hesitated, wondering how to continue.

" _Where will she be staying? With Mei?"_

Trust Richard to be direct. He opened his mouth to reply – what, exactly, he didn't know. Richard raised his eyebrows and his chin from his hands.

" _She's staying with you, isn't she?"_

He nodded slowly, silently pleading for his friend to understand. Even exhausted and three hundred fifty miles away, Richard did. He coughed, cleared his throat, and sat back in his desk chair.

" _I see. I'm sure the two of you have talked about this. You're not just springing a surprise on her."_

There was more than a hint of protectiveness in the Scot's voice. It did not offend Charles; rather, it pleased him that Richard cared enough about Elsie to say such a thing, even to him.

"We have talked about it," he reassured Richard. "She knows what the plan is. Really, it's down to her. She was the one to encourage it."

" _Well, good,"_ Richard sighed. _"I didn't think you would be the type to take advantage of her in that sort of situation. I just wanted to make sure."_ He paused in the silence, as if to wait for Charles to say something else. _"Is there anything else?"_

Charles's face went red, and he scratched over his ear, feeling the wet hair from his shower. "Uh…yes. I…uh…just wanted…that is…"

" _What?"_ Richard gave no hint that he had any clue as to what mortified his friend. _"Spit it out."_

But Charles couldn't figure out how to make his brain or his tongue work together. Richard's eyes suddenly widened.

" _Are you-you're not going to_ _propose_ _to her, are you!?"_

The question was so surprising it made Charles laugh. "What!? No! What made you say that? She's only seventeen!"

Richard immediately relaxed. _"Nothing. I just-never mind, I'm tired, and my brain is doing funny things."_

The break had given Charles a way to say what he meant. "No, of course we're not doing anything _that_ drastic," he repeated. "Good Lord – I've barely finished one year, and Elsie still has a year to go at school, never mind university. But we are - furthering our relationship," he said awkwardly. "And I wondered if you had, um, any words of wisdom to share."

" _Ah. You mean, uh, sex."_ It was not often that Richard was flustered. Charles watched him turn pink. _"Oh – that."_

"I just thought…I needed to ask someone," Charles rushed. "I like Peter, but I don't know him as well as you. You and I've been friends for years."

" _Thank you, but what makes you think I have any knowledge worth sharing?"_

"I…" Charles furrowed his brow. "I thought…you and Isobel…never mind, I was wrong," he mumbled, staring at the wall, wondering why he had thought the other couple had a physical relationship.

There was a long pause.

" _I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm being difficult with you. It's just…our relationship is private. Because both of us are rather private people, of course, but also because hardly anyone in our families think that us being together is a great thing. My parents are coming around, though they're more indifferent than anything. As are hers,"_ Richard sighed, taking a sip of water from a half-empty bottle. _"But I'm not used to anyone being curious about us. You're different, you're one of the best friends I've got. As it happens…"_ A small smile appeared on his face, framed by his mustache. _"You're not wrong. About Bel and I."_

Charles felt rather hot, then cold. "Oh," he stuttered. "I didn't mean to pry." He wondered if Elsie had recently talked with Isobel. _So they_ _ **are**_ _lovers!_

" _I know you didn't. No offense taken,"_ Richard cleared his throat. _"What do you need to know? Don't tell me you need the basics-"_

"No, no, nothing like that," Charles waved his hand, balancing the phone on his knees. "I – just wanted to know if there was something I could do…to make it good for her," his face darkened from red to magenta.

" _You thinking about sex from her perspective helps her a lot,"_ his friend said. _"Listen to Elsie. If you're lucky, she'll_ _tell_ _you what she wants."_

"What if she doesn't?" Worried, Charles pulled his hair, making it stand up straight. "What if she waits for me to make the first move, and we end up staring at each other because I'm too bloody nervous?"

" _Don't overthink it,"_ Richard explained patiently. _"Really. This is sex we're talking about, not strategy for the next cricket match. Do you remember having those horrid ballroom dancing lessons during fourth year?"_

"Yes." He wondered where his friend was going with _that_ memory.

" _The instructor taught us the steps. Then he said to not think about them, to just let the music take us through the dance."_ Leaning back in his chair, Richard rested an arm on top of his head. _"It didn't help me at_ _all_ _dancing, but as an analogy for making love it works fine. You know what to do. Go as slow as you can, especially at the beginning,"_ he cautioned. _"She'll appreciate that."_

"Is that all?" Charles was exasperated. "'Listen to her, go slow' – I need more to go on than that!"

" _What did you expect, me to give you a step by step account? I'm not going to walk you through it! Look, you love her. Really love her. Tell her again, remind her of that. Charles,"_ Richard shook his head reproachfully, _"You think you need to be some kind of spectacular god in bed? You don't, you really don't. She loves you! You told me she said you're a good kisser. Start with that."_ He grinned. _"Keep it simple. It'll make you less nervous as well. The more the two of you are comfortable at the beginning, the better it'll be."_

Charles let out a long breath. He wasn't sure he felt any more confident than before, but at least he knew she trusted him. _And it's easy for him to say I don't need to be great in bed – though having divine power sounds like an excellent plan right now._ "Is there _anything_ else I need to know?"

" _Hmmm."_ Scratching his face, Richard yawned, then blinked, rubbing his eyes. _"Oh…how much do you know about female anatomy?"_

"Enough," he said, wondering if his friend would launch into a lecture on the subject. He didn't think he needed _that._

" _Well, there IS something you need to know. More to the point,_ _where_ _something is. Believe me. I wish someone would have told me what I'm telling you."_

He listened to Richard, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hair.

* * *

Peter paced outside the doors, before looking in the window. "Should I go up and get them? Who knows what they're doing, Mei said they'd be down in ten minutes-"

"And it's nearly that now. If they're not down in the next five minutes, then we can remind them when dinner is." Charles nervously tugged on his cufflinks, making sure they were straight before checking the inside pocket of his tailcoat. The last thing he wanted was to get to dinner and find he'd forgotten the tickets.

The Magdalene College May Ball was one of the extravagant balls held in Cambridge after the end of the year exams. It was known for its six-course dinner. Charles had wanted to go since before he'd even started university – it was something he knew he'd remember.

It was all the better that Elsie was with him.

Peter came over and put a hand on his shoulder. Charles took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.

"You've got nothing to worry about. I know _I_ look like an idiot, wearing this," Peter gestured at his kilt. "I should have gone with the tails, like you did. Not," he raised his eyebrows, "that I would have looked _any_ better. Mum's staying with my grandparents in Northumberland right now. She texted back-" He pulled out his phone. "-here, I'll just let you read it."

 _Mum, 17:43_

 _You look very handsome! Your granny agrees, she's partial to the kilt. And Granddad wants to know who Charles's parents are. He said, "That young man wears a tailcoat as if he were born wearing it!" Oh, he also told me to tell you that 'you'll do'. Have fun tonight! Be safe! ;)_

"The eighth Marquess of Hexham likes your style," Peter grinned, taking the phone back. "Well done."

"I'm surprised he didn't say anything more about you. You're _his_ grandson," Charles smoothed his hair down. His friend laughed.

"And his namesake. It's an old joke in the family, him saying 'you'll do'. Playing the frigid English aristocrat. It's a term of endearment, really. He's not snobbish at all. When I was about five, we were visiting and the Duke of Edinburgh came for dinner, for some charity thing. He was appalled when Granddad hugged Drew, Bella and me before bedtime!"

"Really?" Charles asked. "Your grandfather hardly sounds English," he said in jest.

"Hard to believe, I know, but he is. Born and bred. His parents were rather unorthodox, especially for aristocracy living in the '30s. They were always open with their affection towards their children, Granddad says. But then, my great-grandfather never expected to _be_ a marquess in the first place-"

Peter's retelling of his family history was interrupted when the door opened. Mei and Elsie exited, laughing over some joke.

Immediately everything seemed to go hazy. Except for her.

A silver stole was draped around her shoulders, accenting her low-cut dark blue gown and the embroidered beading on it. The gloves that went up to her elbows. Her hair was curled and pulled up into a half chignon. She laughed at something Peter said, before turning to look at Charles.

His crisp black trousers and tailcoat, his stiff white shirt and waistcoat. His hair had been browbeaten into submission for the evening, but it only made him more endearing. He was so handsome that for a moment she forgot to breathe.

And he was staring at _her._

A hot blush rose on her cheeks. Her eyes glanced down, not seeing his lost in admiration. She cleared her throat and stepped towards him.

"Good evening, Mr. Carson," she said in a low voice. "My, you look very distinguished."

He felt as though his tongue had swollen, making it impossible to speak. All he could do was silently gesture for them to follow Peter and Mei, holding out his arm for her to take it.

They were halfway down the block before he managed to form coherent words. "You are stunning, Miss Hughes," he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "The fairest lady I've ever seen." He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it, making her gasp.

She wondered how on earth she was going to make it through dinner.

* * *

The haze, for him, continued to last through the champagne reception all the way to the end of six courses. Not even the elaborate place settings caught his attention. Much.

"Oh dear, I'm glad I ate hardly anything since lunch," Elsie said to Mei, slumping back in her chair. "I cannot eat one thing more!"

"It's a good thing you like dancing then," Mei grinned, getting up and grabbing Peter's hand. "By the time we've danced for a while, you'll be hungry again!"

The band headlining the music for the evening was The Fratellis. Charles was gleeful at Elsie's open delight. "I knew you'd like it," he said as they began to play. "It seemed like fate, a band from Glasgow!"

The bass kicked in as the drums made the air around them seem to throb. A cheer went up. It was one of the band's hits, "Chelsea Dagger".

 _Someone said you was asking after me_

 _But I know you best as a blagger_

 _I said, tell me your name is it sweet?_

 _She said my boy it's Dagger, oh yeah_

 _I was good, she was hot_

 _Stealin' everything she got_

 _I was bold, she was over the worst of it_

 _Gave me gear, thank you dear, bring yer sister over here_

 _Let her dance with me just for the hell of it_

 _Well, you must be a boy with bones like that_

 _She said you got me wrong_

 _I would've sold them to you_

 _If I could've just have kept the last of my clothes on, oh yeah…_

 _Chelsea, Chelsea, I believe when you're dancing…_

 _The boys get lonely after you leave_

 _It's one for the Dagger and another for the one you believe…_

He didn't care that he looked ridiculous, only that she was laughing in his arms. Her stole was set aside, and her bare shoulders and arms gleamed under the lights.

His hands were warm and heavy, resting against her waist. She reached up once to pull a dark curl that had broken free on his forehead before giving it up as a lost cause.

Neither had any idea what time it was when they left the dancing to wander further in the gardens. Peter and Mei had long since disappeared – to where, they didn't know. The moon was high.

Elsie carried her stole in one hand, breathing a contented sigh. The night air was delicious against her skin. Charles dangled his tailcoat over one shoulder, his other hand holding Elsie's.

"I could have danced longer, but I needed to be able to hear myself," he said, his voice carrying in the quiet. She chuckled under her breath.

"And for _you_ to say that means it was very loud indeed," she glanced at him fondly. "Do you mind if we sit down? My feet could use a rest."

They sat on a bench near several string players. "Now _this_ music is more my style," he joked as the gentle sounds came their way. He smiled, looking up at the sky. "It almost feels like we're in a different world here. It's very peaceful."

"It's nice to get away from our everyday lives now and then," she squeezed his hand. "Soon enough we'll be back in our regular routines." Her smile faded. "I don't like being apart from you. It's not because I'm clingy, or I need a man-"

"You're an independent woman," he leaned forward and brushed his lips along her forehead. "Of course you don't need me." He lifted her chin with his finger. "That's one of the reasons why I love you."

She tried to smile, though it was rather watery. "I've _missed_ you," she whispered. "God, when I'm with you it's like I feel it _more_."

"I know," he held her hands in his on his lap, their fingers intertwined. His heart ached. "I've missed you, too. All the more reason to enjoy the time we have together."

"I love you, Charlie," she murmured. The intensity in her words caused a sudden rush of heat in his veins.

They leaned forward and bumped heads, laughing softly at their mutual clumsiness, before their lips met.

It felt as though they had crossed an invisible bridge. His mouth pressed to hers, slow and hot. Elsie knew if they had been standing her legs would have given out. They finally broke apart, their heads still together, as they gasped for breath.

"Elsie," he whispered, his chest heaving, his lips against her cheek, her temple, "my god, I love you. What you _do_ to me…"

They stood up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. Soft murmurs and whispers of each other's names passed between them. Their embrace grew more passionate, hidden in the moonlit shadows of the trees.

Leaning over, his hands on her back, he kissed her cheek, then down to her jaw before his fingers moved aside a tendril of hair and his lips tasted the soft skin on her neck. He slowly flicked his tongue below her ear, both hearing and feeling her gasps and then a shuddering moan.

She was on fire, clutching his shoulders. Her entire body trembled. Her breasts against his chest, his arms around her, his sweet mouth on her neck.

She didn't want him to stop. Ever. He made her feel _so good_ , and yet in the back of her mind a voice yelled that they were not alone, that many people were nearby, that anyone could see them-

He let out a muffled groan, his lips below her ear. The feel of her fingers in his hair, untangling it. The feel of _her_ pressed so close to him, closer than they had ever been before. His hands slipped below her waist, traced the curve of her bottom.

He was sure she could feel him. What she did to him. The thought made him gasp, and he had to conscientiously force himself to exercise self-control.

 _I want him. He wants me. I don't want him to stop. Stop. We must stop…_

"Stop," she choked, putting a hand on his chest. She felt the frenzied beating of his heart. Pushing him a little, she squeezed her eyes shut. " _Stop_."

 _Oh God. I've gone too far, pushed her too fast…_

"I'm so sorry," he gasped, almost tripping on the forgotten bench and sitting down heavily. He covered his face with his hands. "I never meant to go that far." He heard her shift her feet. Sitting up, he looked into the distance, the twinkling lights scattered around the garden, the distant bass of music still playing. "Do you want to go dance again?" he asked, sure she wouldn't want to be anywhere near him. He was nowhere close to calming down. "It's got to be half three at least. In a few hours we can have the champagne breakfast."

Without a word, she slid her small, strong fingers around his wrist and pulled him to his feet. Handing him his tailcoat, she led him back through the garden where there were more lights, and more people. She checked her phone.

"It's twenty past three," she said quietly. She looked in his eyes, and to his astonishment he saw a vivid blush across her face. "Charlie," she hesitated a moment, then tugged a little on his sleeve. "The ball is wonderful, so was the dinner, dancing was fun. I'm sure the breakfast is something to remember. But I didn't come to Cambridge for all that. I came here for you."

And then, thank heavens, she smiled at him. Her eyes danced.

* * *

They made their way back to Benson Court. Elsie had removed her shoes, and they swung from one hand as they walked.

"In a hurry, Mr. Carson?" she teased lightly, stumbling a little behind him. He slowed down and gave her a nervous smile.

"A little," his breath was short. "I guess I'm afraid you'll change your mind."

"No," she said with conviction, though her heart skipped several beats and her stomach flipped over.

"Why are you calling me 'Mr. Carson'?" he asked. "It reminds me of when I was at Downton. Whenever you call me that, I expect to see the Headmistress stepping out of the shadows."

Elsie laughed, pressing her fingers against his. "I call you that because I can," she grinned cheekily. "But I'll stop doing it – I wouldn't want to ruin the mood!"

"You never could," he said. They both jumped a little when they saw a small figure dart from under a parked car down the street.

"It's just a cat," she took a deep breath, hoping to soothe her own nerves.

He let her into his room before going to the kitchen. He wanted to get something for them to drink, and he had a feeling she needed a moment to herself. He knew he did. His hands were shaking.

When he got back to the room, she was sitting on the bed, her feet curled beside her, her hair down in the glow of the lamplight.

"Water?"

"Thank you." She took a long drink from the bottle he gave her.

 _Now what?_

To buy some time, he sat on the other end of the bed and took off his shoes. And his socks for good measure. "Are you tired?"

"No, not at all." She had never felt more wide awake despite the late hour. A memory of Valentine's Day the previous year came to mind, and she smiled to herself. She drank some more water and stood up, setting the bottle on his desk. When she turned around, he was laying stretched out on the bed.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" She tried not to feel disappointed. _Maybe it's not meant to be._

"No!" he raised his head from the pillow, leaning on his arm. "I just needed to stretch a little." He reached for her with his other hand. "Come and join me?"

She bit her lip, feeling every shred of nerves. She did not feel at all bold – was that what Beryl had said? Still, he still had his clothes on. As did she. "All right." She laid down next to him, her back to his chest. Somehow there was still room on the single bed. "This is nice," she said, hoping she didn't sound as timid as she felt. The warmth from his body seeped through his clothes, onto her skin. It helped her relax.

"Mmmm," he rumbled, his breath on her ear. " _Very_ nice." He moved aside her hair, and she felt a jolt of anticipation.

He lavished light kisses on her neck down to her shoulder, sucking on the skin there, his arms encircling her. Within a very short time, she was panting for breath.

 _How…how does he do that with his mouth?_

His hands moved from her waist to her belly, slipping ever higher on her lithe form.

 _Does she have any idea what she's doing to me? What she_ _sounds_ _like? Oh god, she's moving. That feels…_

Her stomach clenched, but it was not from nerves. She knew that now. Desire, like a wildfire that had begun innocently then spread everywhere, coursed through her blood. She panted, gasped, moaned, and she scarcely cared what she sounded like. Unconsciously, she began to move against him, back and forth.

He broke away from her shoulder, breathing hard, his hands pressed against her ribs. "Elsie," he panted. His trousers were so tight they were almost painful.

"What?" she breathed, her eyes half-closed. When he didn't answer, she turned over in his arms. His eyes were dark. Wild.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, pulling her closer. "So…beautiful…" His words were lost as she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

Somehow most of her nervousness was gone, burned away by the fire. She kissed him deeply, her heart leaping at his sighs and soft moans. She slipped the tip of her tongue into his mouth, and thrilled when he did the same.

It was beginning to feel extremely warm. And her gown, as much as she liked it, was rather constricting.

She moved in Charles's arms a little to better reach around his broad shoulders. As she did so, she was aware of him moving her higher. All the while they kissed.

Until she broke away to gasp for air and found his mouth below her chin, her décolletage right there.

He dipped his head, his lips on her rounded breasts. His big hands cupped them underneath, massaging the supple skin through the fabric.

She let out a guttural moan and threw her head back. "Oh god…" she whimpered. "Charlie, don't stop…"

For how long he continued his attention she was not aware. But only when he sat up, his hair askew, his shirt rumpled, and his face red did she register anything.

Her skin from her face down her neck to her chest flushed a rosy color. Her lips were swollen. At the look on his face she stood up and turned around, letting him help her undress.

"I didn't know," he said quietly, trying to keep her nerves at bay, "that you had freckles on your breasts." He leaned closer as her gown slid to the floor. Unhooking her bra, he whispered in her ear. "I couldn't quite see _that_ detail the day you first showed them to me, at the assembly."

As he hoped, she laughed before turning back around. Biting her lip, she stared at his feet, feeling terribly exposed.

"Don't…" he held her elbows in his hands. "Don't _do_ that, Els." She found the courage to look up at him again. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he told her solemnly. His tone almost made her laugh again, but her breath caught at his expression.

 _He's telling the truth._

 _I_ am _beautiful in his eyes._

"Thank you," she murmured. The words were inadequate as to what his words deserved, but she felt she needed to say something in response.

"Help me?" he asked smiling, holding out his hands. She grinned despite her blush and undid his cufflinks and studs, setting them aside on the bedside table. When she leaned closer to undo his bow-tie, he took the opportunity to reacquaint himself with her breasts.

"Charlie, _really_ ," she buried her fingers in his hair. "How am I supposed to help you if you-" she let out a cry, all other thoughts forgotten.

God, she was luscious. He wanted to remove his clothing as much as he'd helped her with hers, but how was he supposed to do that when she stood there, so warm and inviting, wearing nothing but her underwear?

 _Black lace._

 _She's trying to kill me._

 _If she succeeds, I will die happy._

He was on his knees on the floor, her bent over him. All of her weight rested on him as he lavished her breasts.

"I want you," she moaned, pushing his face closer. She fisted his shirt in her hand. To take it off in one motion.

It was not that kind of shirt.

A loud _r-r-r-r-rip_ broke the silence, and she stared down at her handiwork in horror. The seam of his sleeve had torn open, leaving a gaping hole.

"Oh my god," she whispered, a hand to her mouth. "You-you _rented_ that shirt, and the trousers and tailcoat, and everything! They'll charge you excess for the damage! Oh _shit_ -"

While she panicked, he stood up slowly and surveyed the hole. He took off the bow-tie and waistcoat and tossed them onto his desk. Then he unceremoniously ripped the shirt off.

"Elsie," he said, stopping her midsentence, her mouth open in shock, "I paid extra. Just in case something happened. _Don't worry about it._ "

Any thought she had of further protest disappeared when he removed the rest of his attire. He draped his trousers over his desk chair and turned back to her, clad only in his boxers.

She swallowed, her heart racing.

He was _gorgeous_.

His broad shoulders with the muscles in his back. His strong arms and long torso. His long legs.

The strange thing was, as unclothed as he was, he almost felt bigger to her. She took one step, then two closer to him, her hands reaching for him. She placed them on his chest and leaned into him, letting him rub her back.

"I knew it," she whispered. Wanting to live a little, she kissed his chest, over his heart. He let out a soft sigh.

"Knew what?" he murmured. She looked up, not realizing she'd spoken aloud. Her eyes shone.

"I _knew_ you had hair on your chest." She twined her fingers through the curly black hair.

"Should I have shaved it off?"

"Never," she pulled him down for another searing kiss. "I love you, hair and all."

They returned to the bed and their exploration of each other. He kissed down her belly and to her hip, spurred on by her encouragement.

"Touch me," she whispered, raking her hands through his hair. He lifted his head to meet her dark eyes. "I trust you," she nodded. " _Please_."

She removed her underwear while he did likewise, both feeling one last moment of awkwardness.

They sat together in the middle of the bed, him stroking her breasts, her hands slipping down his torso to his legs. He kissed her again, lighter, lingering. She moved into his lap. Her legs around him.

The only sound was their breathing.

He eased her back against the pillow, slid up her body and gathered her into his arms, their mouths meeting in a hard, fervent kiss. Kissing her shoulder, his hot hand touched her hip. Traced her thigh.

His fingers touched, caressed, searched.

Elsie whimpered, her body moving of its own will. As if it knew a dance she had never seen.

"Ch-Charlie," she stuttered, almost in tears, at the edge of her desire. "Don't st-stop, _ah_ -"

He found what he had been searching for.

The fire within her blazed white hot. Sounds erupted from her mouth that she didn't know she _could_ make, but she didn't care, didn't care, there was only him, her Charlie, him and his unbelievable touch, and he wasn't stopping, no, he pressed further, and she let out a wild, keening cry-

"Elsie," he called, hoping she heard him. The terrible throb of his own desire was the major thought in his body and mind. "Elsie," he repeated, kissing her chest, tasting her, "God, I _need_ you," he gasped. "Please," he begged.

She nodded, leaning back, taking a deep breath. Her skin glistened. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, now." His touch wasn't enough. She wanted him. Needed him.

All of him.

He joined them fully, after some maneuvering. His knees seemed to be in the way as he fumbled a little, hoping she didn't think he was a complete fool.

And she was smaller than what he expected.

He tried not to hurt her, but the feel of them together was so overwhelming he pushed harder than he should have.

She let out a gasp. There was a pinch of pain, but it was also the strangeness of it. Of him _inside_ her.

"Are you all right?" His breath was erratic. She felt a surge of love for him, knowing in that moment that for all his own pleasure, he still asked.

"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, getting used to the sensation of them joined. It felt good, and felt even better when he moved, at first moving slow but then speeding up.

It was beyond what he had imagined. He couldn't believe how _good_ it felt, how good _she_ felt. She moaned again, and he was afraid he'd hurt her, but one look at her face told him she was not.

The feel of him against her, inside her, everywhere, was intoxicating. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his broad back, running her hands down to where his body curved to meet hers. He bellowed, losing control.

 _Oh my god this is bliss this is heaven I hope I can keep going her voice what is she saying-_

"Yes," she cried out. "Y-e-e-e-e-e-s, _YES-"_

He kept going.

Until both his pleasure, and hers, was completely, and loudly, exclaimed.

They laid together, kissing, until he felt his body let go. He climbed off of her, and immediately hit the back of his head against the wall, forgetting its close proximity.

"You okay?" she whispered as he laid back down on his side next to her. He rubbed the back of his head, nodding.

"It'll be fine. I have a hard head," he said, still on a high. She started giggling and couldn't stop.

"Among other things," she choked. She leaned her head on his arm. He raised his eyebrows, pulling the covers over them.

"Elsie _Hughes_ ," he pretended to scold, but dissolved into laughter at her expression. "Wow," he said, tucking her under his arm. She grazed her fingers over his chest. " _Wow_."

"Charles Carson," she said, imitating him, tracing her fingers up to his chin. "Wow."

"I love you," he murmured, feeling sleepy. "I love it when you say my name."

"I love it when you say mine," she felt wide awake. More so, if that were possible. "When you say anything, really. You said wow," she smiled, tilting his face down to look at her. "The first night we kissed. Did it feel the same?"

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, mentally setting aside the way she gasped. " _Much_ greater. A thousand times greater. More," he opened his mouth against her palm, then her wrist.

"I love you, Charlie," she cried, raising herself up to look down at him.

He didn't miss the heat in her eyes.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the window. He blinked, not comprehending what it was. His mouth felt dry. Somehow he knew if he tried to move, it would be very difficult.

He couldn't really feel his right arm, either.

A soft snore came from somewhere close by.

He looked down, and remembered he was laying on his back. Elsie laid on top of him, face down, fast asleep.

Charles couldn't help smiling. Her perfect breasts squished against his bare chest, her naked body pressed against him, her strong arms wrapped around him – he couldn't imagine a better way to wake up.

He suppressed his laughter so as not to wake her, even though she snored in what sounded like a different key than a moment before.

 _She'd never believe me if I told her she snored!_

He felt something funny below his left nipple, and moved his head a little so as to see what it was. He bit his lip, his body rippling in silent laughter.

 _She drools, too._

 _Oh, my beautiful girl. It WAS a night. Or rather, an early morning._

He tried to look above him, to see if he could see the clock, or reach for his phone. He could do neither. When he shifted his weight just the slightest bit (his right leg was asleep as well), she snuffled a little against his chest and clung tighter.

And snored on.

He let the status quo continue for several more minutes. At some point, he was going to _have_ to move.

"Els," he said as softly as possible. He touched her hair, her cheek with his left hand. "Wake up, it's got to be past noon-"

"Hmmm," she took a deep breath. She blinked, swallowed, licked her lips. She lifted her head, her eyes bleary. "Good morning."

"Good afternoon, more like," a smile spread across his face. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm-hmm." She slid up and kissed him on the lips. "Sorry for the breath," she made a face. "I should have brushed my teeth before coming back to bed the last time."

"I was asleep before you'd even left to visit the loo. I never heard you come back."

She grinned naughtily. "Did I wear you out, Mr. Carson?"

He laughed out loud. "More like I wore _you_ out, Miss Hughes. If I remember correctly," he wagged his eyebrows, "when you got up the first time, you fell on the floor because your legs wouldn't hold you."

"Yes, well, they'd had more exercise than usual," she said with a straight face. "It was all the dancing, you see."

"Oh?" He stretched his right arm to rest his hand under his head. It tingled horribly. "Remind me never to take you dancing again."

His phone buzzed.

"I'll get it, I'm closer," she clambered over him, delighting in the feel of their bare skin against each other. It was a freeing feeling, being able to see each other like this in the daylight. After the way he'd reacted to her several hours earlier, she was in no doubt as to how he saw her. She unhooked his phone and swiped her finger across its face to put in the password. "My lord…you've got all sorts of messages."

"From who?" he asked, content to let her read them. To tell the truth, with her sitting up, he had better things to view.

"Your parents, from last night," she began reading. "They thanked you for the picture you sent them of us at dinner. Hoped we had a good time. One from Richard around midnight, saying the same. Wishing he could have been here, too," she glanced up, smiling at him. "One from Beryl. I think she'd had a few drinks when she sent it."

"I can imagine," he said drily.

"A bunch of comments on Facebook about the pictures. Robert says he's changed his mind, that he wants to come to Cambridge instead, he _was_ accepted at Jesus College somehow-"

"He never will, not when Cora, America and Harvard beckon," Charles put his other hand behind his head. The way the sun shone through the window on her pale skin, the curve of her breasts, the pink nipples…

"Of course he'll follow her. Oh, another message is from around two this morning. Your friend Sybil wanted to know if we wanted to go punting this morning. She sent another one later, saying never mind, we must have had other plans." Elsie sighed. "Another time, I _would_ have liked that. And to get to talk to Sybil some more. She's very nice. Her boyfriend, too." She squinted at the phone again. "And there's about six messages from both Peter and Mei, asking where we are. The last one was sent after dawn. A picture of them at breakfast. Mei says they'll call later this afternoon, maybe we can have dinner together before my train. If we don't have other plans."

She looked up and rolled her eyes at Charles's expression. "Have you heard _anything_ I've said?"

"Of course," he slowly slid his eyes up and down. "We'll have to make plans another time with Sybil and her leprechaun. I know, I _know_ ," he held up his hands at her outraged expression. "Tom's fine, he's just a little too…"

"Irish?" she supplied. "Socialist? Loves football and not cricket?"

"It's the cricket," he playfully tickled her belly, and she swiped at his hands. "As for the rest of the messages, Peter and Mei thought we'd vanished. I'll call him later. In the meantime…" he took the phone from her and dumped it back on the bedside table, before placing his hands on her lower back, bringing her closer. He bent his head and tongued the hollow of her throat, down to the red birthmark that rested between her breasts.

"Men!" she huffed, sounding annoyed, though she knew he knew she wasn't. " _One_ thing on your minds all the time!"

"It's your fault. You and your lovely breasts…" he murmured, taking one into his mouth. "…I know _you_ don't mind."

She didn't.

A short time later they both gasped for breath, her head resting against his. "You are _amazing_ , Charlie," her lips curved into a half-smile. "But try not to be quite so smug about it." She affectionately rubbed her nose against his. "I'm astonished you aren't starving."

"I was hungry for something else," his fingers traced the back of her thighs. "And I'm hardly smug!" His liquid eyes grew serious. "I'm at your mercy, love." They shared a sweet kiss, and he traced the curve of her face. _"But to see her was to love her,"_ he quoted, _"Love but her, and love forever."_

A lump formed in her throat. She smoothed back some of his hair. "Quoting Rabbie Burns? Flatterer," she whispered.

"It's true," he said sincerely. "I'll love you forever."

She was saved from bursting into tears by his rumbling stomach. She laughed instead, and dabbed at the corner of her eye.

"I guess I am hungry for food," he chuckled.

She shifted her weight and patted his stomach fondly. "Let's get you fed," she got up from the bed and stumbled, falling into his chair. "And me as well. Ooh – I feel dizzy." She put a hand on his desk for balance.

He got up, stomping his foot to get the circulation going in his leg again. They dressed and went out into the day.

* * *

"The cottage pie must have been good," Elsie said, grinning at him over the remains of her ham, egg, and chips. They sat in a half-full Kingston Arms. "Or you were hungrier than you thought."

"It _was_ good," Charles admitted. He wiped his mouth. "Though I still don't know why you chose to tell me about your conversation with Beryl while I was eating-"

She laughed, munching on a chip. "Because you told me about talking with Richard, and asked me if I'd talked to anyone."

"I figured you'd spoken to Isobel," he groaned. "Someone with more _tact_."

"I would have, but like I told you, I think she's been avoiding me. I wish I knew why," Elsie sipped her water. "I suppose I'll have to wait until the end of term."

Charles swirled his fork on his empty plate. "Does it surprise you that they're lovers? You don't think that has something to do with it? That she's uncomfortable talking to you?"

"No, it doesn't surprise me. And I thought about that. Surely she could have a conversation without bringing up their...personal lives." Elsie felt her face get warm.

He noticed the color in her cheeks, and raised his eyebrows. " _You_ wouldn't talk about us with her, would you? Not details?"

"Of course not! Not with her, or any of our other friends. I'll never kiss and tell," she set down her glass. "Just like I don't dig for details in our friends' lives."

"And yet Beryl Patmore knows about us." He didn't like that thought. Not that he thought Beryl would spread the word around, it just bothered him that _anyone_ would know what he and Elsie were up to.

What Richard had said about keeping things private made more and more sense to him. Even considering his and Elsie's parents approval of their relationship.

"She knows what we were _talking_ about. The next time I see her, when she asks me what happened, I'll tell her it's none of her business. At most, I'll say we're happy." She looked up and saw him gazing into the distance, frowning. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and leaned his face on his hand. "I keep thinking about what Richard said. About him and Isobel. How hardly anyone close to them, other than us, really cares about their relationship." He smiled at her. "I can't imagine being as happy as I am with you, and my parents not caring-"

Stopping abruptly, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in a round O. "My _god_. I can't believe I didn't think of it before." At the question in Elsie's eyes, he leaned forward. "I told you he asked me if I was going to propose to you."

"Yes," she said, taking his hand across the table. Her eyes twinkled. "I mean, I love you too, but it's much too early to talk about _that_."

"It is," he agreed. Privately, he thought about what the next few years would bring. "But it's not too early for Richard and Isobel. Not really."

She put a hand to her mouth. _Of course. It makes perfect sense._ "You think they're engaged!"

"The more I think about it, the more I think it's likely," he said. "They wouldn't want to tell their families yet, especially not if they think his parents would raise hell. And I doubt they'd want to tell us before telling their own blood relations. No matter how good of friends we are."

"Maybe," Elsie ran a hand through her hair. "What if his parents never approve, though? _Hers_ might, in time."

"I don't know," Charles said sadly. "He's very close to them. His sisters are fine with it, but I know he hates the idea of driving a wedge in between them and his parents." He set his other hand on top of hers, holding it between both of his. "I'm glad you and I don't have to deal with that. Mum and Dad love you, and by some miracle your Da and Mam like me. And Becky too, of course."

"Just as long as they don't know what we do in private," Elsie said, blushing again. "I don't like to keep secrets from them, but...well, it's between us. I won't say anything to mine if you don't say anything to yours. Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

They kissed at the train station until the very last moment before she had to leave. He watched her face until the blur of windows made it impossible.

Before twenty minutes had passed, her phone buzzed with a text from him.

 _Thank you so much for the wonderful weekend! I miss you already. But I'll see you at the end of term._

 _I love you forever, beautiful girl._

* * *

 **A/N: Bonus Round: Peter's great-grandmother is not named here, but you should be able to guess who she is.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, I could go on and on about why it's taken me so long to update this story. But you want to get to it as soon as possible, and I want to let you, so in short: Writer's block and doubt over writing ability are real things, real life takes precedence (and sometimes kicks harder and more frequently than what I'd like), and other stories keep pushing themselves to the front of the line.**

 **There are several time jumps here. I found that I didn't really want to dwell on every major life event Chelsie experiences. The story just needed to move on. I hope it's not too confusing.**

 **This chapter's rated M – just the last section really applies. Our couple is a few years older here, and they're more, um, adult. I tried not to go too crazy. This story began as a T, and I still think of it as one. Young love, and all that.**

 **Major spoilers are dropped as to Richobel here. I'm working on Wait For Me, and the details of what happens to them will be explored further in that story. I couldn't write this chapter and not mention them. It might seem like I'm being very flippant with them here, like "oh, by the way…", but this is first and foremost a Chelsie fic.**

 **Many thanks go out to you all who've dropped bread crumbs for me in the forest for the last few months. I never would have made it back to this one if you hadn't asked about it.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was really true that time went faster the older one became.

The days during Elsie's last year at Downton seemed to drag on, but by the end of the summer term, she could not believe how fast the year had gone.

"Part of me is surprised you did not apply for a place at Cambridge," Violet said to her on the lawn in front of the school. Staff, graduates, families and friends milled around them. "But I believe Glasgow is the right place for you. Your parents are justifiably proud of your success, as I am."

"Thank you," Elsie blushed at the soft look in the headmistress's eyes.

"I can't say I will miss the headaches you caused me," the older woman continued. "Though I am _very_ grateful your behavior changed in your last years here. The credit goes as much to you as it does to Mr. Carson."

Charles was talking with Beryl and Anna nearby. Elsie smiled when Becky ran over to him and tugged on his arm, leading him away.

"I guess I needed someone to persuade me to change," Elsie fanned herself. It was warm in the sun. "I didn't listen to many people before Charlie."

Violet raised her eyebrows. "Do you listen to him all the time now?" They exchanged knowing grins.

"No."

"I would never expect you to follow anyone's path, except the one you make for yourself. You're far too strong-willed to let anyone dictate terms to you," Violet crossed her arms. "When you first came to Downton, if anyone would have told me you would leave here wanting to become a _teacher_ , I would never have believed them!" she laughed and shook her head. "Elsie Hughes, you continue to surprise me. I wish you all the success in the world. I know you'll stay in contact with my cousin, especially after her wedding, but I'd like it if you kept in touch with me, too."

"I will," Elsie promised. She shook hands with the headmistress before they went off separately to visit with others.

She still surprised herself with some of the choices she'd made. Her high scores in mathematics made it easy to decide on her course of study at university. The decision to accept a place at Glasgow had been more of a struggle. A large part of her heart wanted to be closer to Charlie, but she had to be realistic. After finishing school in England, she knew Mam, Da and Becky were keen for her to be closer to home.

And the university fees were more affordable in Scotland.

She couldn't place the moment when she'd decided to become a teacher. The process had been a more gradual one than just a bolt from the blue.

 _I'm glad I told the headmistress she was part of the reason I made that decision._

The letter she had written her was in Violet's office. Elsie had asked Isobel to put it there.

Her older friend stood holding Richard's hand, the couple talking with Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.

It made Elsie happier than she thought possible, knowing that her friends were finally getting married that summer. Richard and Isobel had seriously considered eloping, but they had said recently that they were glad they hadn't done so. Their wedding would be all the sweeter with their families and friends present.

Including Elsie and Charles, of course.

* * *

 **Eight months later**

" _I miss you."_

Charles shifted his weight on his bed. His foot was falling asleep. Elsie tried to smile at him, but he could tell even from the image of her face on his phone's screen that she couldn't quite manage it.

"I miss you too," he murmured. "I hope you let Julia drag you along sometimes when she goes out. I don't want you locked away in your room. Pining away for me."

" _I never pine,"_ she arched an eyebrow. " _And I'm more likely to unlock doors than to lock them. But I_ _am_ _allowed to miss my boyfriend. Not that the lads in my course like it when I mention you-_ "

"Don't remind me," he growled. He yanked a hand through his hair. "From the way Julia described it, the first day they saw you in your first lecture, they were like vultures waiting to pounce."

He was incredibly proud of Elsie, tackling economics and mathematics. Of course she was brilliant; that was no surprise.

It was just too bad she was one of the few women in her course. It had made her a target for nearly every man she met. Either to flirt with her, or to sometimes harass her. He was grateful she'd found a good friend in her roommate.

Though he had confessed to Richard the fact that Julia was bisexual had worried him initially. What if she made a move on Elsie? The extroverted first year student from Paisley wasn't bad looking.

It had only taken his first meeting with Julia to know she'd never seriously flirt with his girlfriend – though he sometimes teased Elsie, just to see her roll her eyes.

" _I can defend myself. As you well know._ " A real smile flitted across Elsie's face. " _I should probably tell you while she's out – she's not dating Lucas anymore. She and Imogen are definitely a couple now._ "

"Oh, really?" He leaned his cheek on his hand.

" _Yes, really. They went to Mono tonight, to see some band. I forget the name._ "

He couldn't help himself. "Should I be worried? I won't see you until Easter. That gives her plenty of time to change her mind and work her charm on you." It took all his willpower not to smile. Or to wag his eyebrows.

" _Honestly, Charlie!_ " He knew she exaggerated the r in his name on purpose. " _You know she's not like that! She's always known I'm madly in love with you. There's no one else for me – no man, woman, or anyone else on the spectrum._ "

He had meant to continue teasing her, but what she said touched his heart.

"It's the same for me," he said with feeling. "Always."

Two weeks later, he went home to Yorkshire for the weekend. As much as he wanted to see Elsie, he knew his family wanted to see him as well. On Saturday afternoon he went to his grandfather's house for tea.

"Charles Ernest!" Granddad smiled and opened the door wide. He gestured for his grandson to come in. "Get in from the rain, lamb."

Charles removed his dripping coat and hung it up next to the door. The term of endearment made his throat close up. As did the warm scent of something baking hitting him in the face. Both reminded him of his gran.

 _She did rub off on Granddad. Eventually._

"Your mum rang and said you'd be here in time for tea," Charles Ronald Carson, known by most as Ronnie, said. "I made summat for ye. It's not bad, if I do say so myself. And if I did burn it a little, there's always your favorite."

The familiar tin of chocolate biscuits on the table made his grandson smile. "I'll get the tea, while you get the other things," he said to Granddad, and busied himself with the kettle. The older man carefully pulled out a small cake from the oven.

"Your gran used to make this. Mine's not as good as hers, but I eat it all the same."

"It smells delicious," Charles said, spooning sugar into their cups. They sat and talked a little while about all sorts of things. The soggy local cricket ground, which Granddad worried over even more than he did. Charles's friends and goings-on at Magdalene. Charles was impressed by his grandfather's memory. He asked after Peter, Mei, Sybil and Tom, as well as Richard, Robert, and several other friends.

"And how's your bonnie lass?" Granddad set down his cup with a twinkle in his eye. His grin made the dimple in his chin stand out even more.

Charles couldn't help his own grin. It meant everything that his family loved Elsie. Granddad had been smitten with her from the first time he'd met her.

"She's doing well. Working very hard, of course, but she does have fun from time to time. She's visiting Anna this weekend, helping celebrate her birthday."

"When will you see her again?"

"Easter." Charles let out a sigh. They hadn't seen each other in person since February. "I'm going to Scotland, and then we'll come here. So _you'll_ see her, too."

"Good. The last time she was here I told her about your gran and I, and how we used to dance around the kitchen." Granddad's face was wistful. "I told her how she reminded me of your gran in some ways – not in looks, o' course – your gran had dark hair when she was young - but her nature. Never sits still, that girl, and neither did Nellie." He gestured at Charles's empty plate, and at the thin slice of cake that was left. "If you're still hungry, you can have it. Otherwise, I can make you some toast if you like-"

"No, thank you," Charles held up his hands. "Save the rest of the cake for later. I'm full, but I'll make more tea if you'd like some more."

As he filled the kettle again, he glared at the ancient monstrosity that was Granddad's toaster. He didn't know how old it was, only that he'd never been able to use it without burning bread. Once he'd nearly singed his eyebrows off. His grandparents had had it forever, and after Gran died, his grandfather had refused to get rid of it.

The first time Elsie used it, the toast came out a little brown, but it was otherwise edible.

 _That thing hates me._

 _Of course she WOULD figure it out! Another reason why Granddad loves her._

Ronnie had gotten up from the table. As Charles refilled their cups, he could hear him rummaging in the sitting room.

"Ah, thank you, lad," the old man set a small wooden box the size of a book on the table and sat down. He sighed. "This damp gets into my bones. Only tea can chase it away." He took a long sip from his cup and set it down. Folding his hands, he gave his grandson an almost stern look.

"What?" Charles asked. It had been ages since he'd gotten in trouble at Granddad's house, but the look he gave him made him feel as though he was.

"How serious are you about Elsie?"

The question took Charles aback. "Very serious."

"Hmm," Granddad studied his gnarled fingers. "Are you going to marry her? Lots of people nowadays don't."

"I…" On the one hand, the question was very simple. As was the answer.

But Charles had yet to tell _anyone_ what he thought, not his parents or any of his friends. Though he had come close to saying something to Richard.

He let out a breath and looked his grandfather in the eye. "Yes. If she'll have me."

The man's face relaxed. "I think she will. I've seen the way she looks at you. Some girls can fake it, but she's not that sort. She loves you, lad." He murmured softly. "I'm glad that you're wanting to marry her," he took another drink of tea. "Some folks say it doesn't matter if a couple gets married, but not me. I'm old-fashioned. If your gran was still alive, and we were your age, I'd still marry her. I hope," he picked at his thumbnail, "that you want to marry Elsie because _you_ want to, not because your dad and mum want you to do it."

"I do," Charles said. "They haven't asked me about it yet. Not directly." _I know Mum's been tempted more than once._ He tried to collect his thoughts. "Part of my reasons are religious, but there's more to it than that." He suddenly felt his eyes burn. The clock ticked on the wall, reassuring him.

"I love her," he whispered. "I want to say it out loud in front of others, promise that I'll always be with her through thick and thin, and hear her say the same. Whether we repeat words in a church, or in a registry office, or somewhere else, it doesn't really matter to me. I want something real. Something true."

He'd never thought about it in depth, but as he heard himself speak, he knew he meant every word. He'd been over the moon when Elsie became his girlfriend, and their bond had only deepened after they'd become lovers nearly two years before.

But he wanted more than that now, he knew. More than just sharing a bed when they visited each other. Or moving in together, once they both finally lived in the same area. They were best friends. They trusted each other implicitly (despite teasing each other from time to time), and relied on each other more than anyone else, despite the long distance and sometimes long stretches of time in between visits.

And he was fairly certain that Elsie wanted more, too.

"Well, you couldn't make it any clearer. I'll say that for you. You're like your gran that way," Granddad took off his glasses and tapped them on the table. "And I know you'll ask Elsie when the time is right."

"Thanks," Charles swallowed a lump in his throat. He took a sip from his cup. "What's in the box?"

Granddad's eyes twinkled. "See for yourself, lamb."

* * *

 **Seventeen months later**

Becky's high-pitched laugh echoed up the stairs, blending with the men's. Mam sighed from Elsie's bed. "It'll be hard to get her to go to bed tonight, but I'll make your Da do it. It serves him right – he was the one who got her laughing!"

Elsie grinned at Mam's reflection in her mirror as she put in an earring. "So did Charlie. You should force _him_ to take a turn putting her to bed before he leaves."

She felt a pang at the thought of him going to London, and immediately chided herself for it.

 _I don't want to cast a pall over our last two days together._

"Ach, no," Mam shook her head. "He's spent so much time with Becky during his visit. I can hardly ask him to do more."

"I think you like him." Elsie straightened her blue blouse. "If I'd made Becky giddy like that, you'd make me stay home and put her to bed myself."

 _Da will have his hands full. She's thirteen years old and_ _very_ _strong-willed._

 _Like someone else I know._

Mam slid her feet over the side of the bed and onto the floor. "I do like him. I love him too," the corner of her lips turned up. "Not in the same way _you_ do, of course."

"I should hope not!" Elsie dabbed on a little lipstick. She and Charles were only going to Inveraray for dinner, but she wanted to look nice.

She hesitated, then grabbed an old hoodie. The August nights were warm, but just in case...

"Where's my purse – oh, there it is," she muttered to herself. It had fallen off the bed onto the floor. Picking it up, she slipped her lipstick into it. The bed creaked as Mam got up. She sniffed.

"Mam?" Elsie asked, seeing her mother wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "Are you okay?"

Mam laughed and shook her head. She tucked an errant grey hair back from her face. It stood out against her mostly dark locks. "Oh, I'm just being silly. You've grown into a woman, but it feels like five minutes ago you were walking down the lane with your Da to your first day of school."

Elsie gave her a hug. "I'll always be your wee girl. No matter how old I am. I don't _feel_ twenty, you know. And you don't look like someone with a twenty-year-old!"

Da had told her Mam had started fussing over the number of grey hairs she'd been finding. Both he and Elsie agreed that Ainsley Hughes was beautiful, no matter how old she was. Elsie hoped she looked half as good as her mother when she neared fifty.

Laughing, Mam kissed her on the cheek. "You're sweet." She gave Elsie another squeeze. "Now, we'd better go downstairs before Charlie thinks you don't want to go."

At the bottom of the stairs, they found Da, Becky, and Charles clustered together. Becky was doing one of her favorite things – playing Pat-A-Cake.

"'Gin!" Becky giggled as they finished. It was hard for those other than family and her teachers to understand her, but Charles had been able to communicate with her well since he'd first met her.

"Just one more time," Da said, glancing at his wife and oldest daughter. "Then we need to let Charlie and Elsie go to dinner."

"Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man…" Charles and Becky went through the whole rhyme, finishing with "and put it in the oven for BECKY and me!" Everyone cheered and clapped. Da wound an arm around Mam's waist.

Charles felt Elsie's eyes on him. He returned her smile, but was distracted by her appearance. She was beautiful just wearing jeans and a simple blouse. He swallowed hard.

"That color brings out the highlights in your eyes," he murmured. She blushed, aware of her family standing right there.

"Thank you." The blue shirt was one of her favorites. "You look very nice, too." He looked good in everything, of course (including kilts), but she enjoyed seeing him less formal in his light brown trousers and green shirt.

He took her into his arms and kissed her lightly on the lips. She relaxed, beyond grateful that he was comfortable with her family – and that her parents didn't seem to mind their open affection. She and Charles had been dating for five years, but it had only been in the last couple of years that they had felt free enough to display it.

She had often thought since that she had been unnecessarily worried.

 _Mam and Da understand._

"Sisi!" Becky cannoned into her side, breaking her embrace with Charles. "Pat-a-cake!"

She stumbled backwards a couple of steps, pushed backwards by her sister. Becky was stronger than she knew. "Tomorrow," she smoothed her hands over Becky's back. "I promise we'll play again tomorrow, but now Charlie and I have to go. We'll see you in the morning." She gave Becky a fond kiss.

Da gently pried the girl off Elsie. "Let her go, lass," he ruffled her hair. He and Mam held both of her hands. Becky was very affectionate, but she didn't know when to stop. "Have fun," he grinned. "We'll keep a light on in here for when you get back."

"Be careful," Mam warned, but she smiled when the younger couple exchanged glances. "I'm a mother, I _have_ to tell you that-"

"We know," they said together. Elsie picked up her hoodie where she'd dropped it on the stairs.

"You shouldn't worry. Charlie's driving, he's more cautious than I am."

"Thank God," Da laughed and scratched the stubble on his chin. "It's fine driving out here in the country, but in town there's more people."

Elsie rolled her eyes. She'd heard it all a thousand times before. "I got into one tiny accident in Inveraray, and ever since then you act like I'm the worst driver in the country. You haven't ridden in a car when Beryl's driving!"

Charles shuddered. "What a disturbing thought. I never have, but I've heard enough from you and Anna to know _I_ never want to be in a vehicle with her behind the wheel."

They said their goodbyes and headed outside. The sky was still light.

After a short ride, they arrived in Inveraray.

The George was full of tourists and travelers. They would have had to wait for a table, but to Elsie's surprise, Charles had made a reservation.

"You didn't have to do that!" She said to him as they were led to a table in a large room next to the bar. "I thought we were just going to have a quiet dinner." The table was decorated with two lit candles, and had a fine view of the outside.

"We are. But I do like to spoil you a little, when I can," he grinned, pulling her chair back. She blushed and sat down, self-consciously checking her hair.

"I should have worn something nicer-"

"'Should' nothing, Elsie," he sat down. "You look beautiful. Am I wearing a suit and tie? No." His eyes twinkled. "And you _know_ if we were going to someplace formal I would've told you."

She let out a breath, laughing. "Very true. You are a stickler for protocol. Sometimes I think you were born in the wrong century. I've thought that since we were at school."

"I'm glad I wasn't born earlier," he said seriously, perusing the wine list. "I would have missed meeting you."

Her heart melted. As fussy as he could be (he'd relaxed since they'd been together), he had a habit of saying the sweetest things.

"I love you," she managed to say through a lump in her throat.

 _How am I going to say goodbye to him again?_

The two years she had left at the University of Glasgow felt interminable. He wouldn't be much further away than he had been, going from Cambridge to London, but she knew he was going to be working hard at his BPTC.* He'd barely have enough time to breathe.

"I love you, too."

She recovered her composure studying the menu, and more when their wine arrived.

"Mmm, this is excellent," she commented, swirling the dark red liquid in her glass.

Expecting him to go into a lecture on different kinds of wine, she was surprised when he only smiled and took another drink.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh," he breathed, leaning back and tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. "I keep thinking about the future. My course…how I'll do."

"Are you nervous? You'll be brilliant. They gave you a scholarship for a good reason." She took his hand. He squeezed it, glad of her strength.

"Not nervous exactly," he said, hoping she didn't prod him further. She always knew how he was feeling. Sometimes it was comforting.

But tonight, he hoped he could keep her off track.

"It's going to be a big change, going to London. Starting over. You know it's hard for me to meet new people. Peter, Mei, and Sybil will be nearby, but they'll be busy with internships and school. I'll be busy, too. And I can't rely on them entirely to provide a social life for me."

"No, but Peter especially will want to spend time with you when you both have a chance," Elsie reminded him. "You're one of _his_ best friends, you know. He was serious at graduation when he said he didn't want to lose contact with you."

"I know. I wish you could go with me," he sighed. "Then I know I'd be fine."

"I'd go with you if I could, you know that," she whispered. "Someday, we _will_ live in the same place again."

They moved onto other topics, neither of them keen to dwell on their impending separation. Becky. Da's new job, working with his brother. John Bates's plans to enter Sandhurst after he graduated from Manchester. Cora and Robert moving to Paris together.

Richard and Isobel, and their adorable daughter Mairin.

"Did you see the video Richard posted?" When Charles shook his head, his mouth full of fillet steak, Elsie pulled out her phone and found it. "She's walking – look!"

"She was close when we were there last week," he smiled, watching the fair-haired girl take several wobbly steps from her father to her mum. He shook his head and handed the phone back to Elsie. "Even staying in the house with them, it still seems incredible that they have a child."

"And another due in December," Elsie reminded him. "Isobel said she hopes she'll get over the shock by Bonfire Night…she said she doubts the students will let her forget."

"Is she disappointed she's going to be missing work again?" Charles scraped his plate. "She said she's not, but Richard told me he worries she's upset about having children so close together, what it will do to her career."

"While _she's_ worried about him, being away from her and the baby while he continues his training. That he regrets their marriage and that they should have waited until he was finished with his Foundation training at least. I told her that she's being ridiculous, and that he doesn't regret a thing, but I'm not sure she believed me."

"She should," Charles said. "He adores her and the baby. _Both_ babies. He's very happy he'll be able to help with them around Christmas."

"I'm sure they'll work it out between them." Sighing, Elsie finished her glass of wine. "They've had more to deal with than most couples. If anyone can endure school, careers, children, and living apart for weeks on end, they can."

"Richard said he'll sleep when he's dead."

Elsie snorted in laughter. "That sounds like him. I don't know when he sleeps _now_ , not with working all hours. And then when he does get to go home for a few days, he hardly rests because he wants to spend as much time as possible with his girls."

"He's had a gift for sleeping on command ever since we were in school," Charles set down his fork and knife. "Once before a cricket match, I'd gone over the strategy, and we had a few minutes before we had to go out. Richard _went to sleep_ with his head against the wall. Tommy Barrow only had to say his name once, and he blinked, stood up, and picked up his bat as though he'd just had his eyes closed. But he'd been snoring!"

"I've missed seeing you sleep," Elsie said, rather wistful. "Mam and Da have known about…us for a while, but I didn't feel like arguing with them when they said you'd sleep downstairs."

"I'm glad you didn't." Charles was relieved. That would have been a disaster. "I mean, I miss you too, but it's not worth getting into a fight with your parents. Our relationship is not all about sex…as much as I enjoy it with you," he wagged his eyebrows at her just to make her smile. "You are coming to London in three weeks. And we were together when we were at Richard and Isobel's last week."

"That was nice of them to put us in the guest room together. Though it was awkward for them _and_ for us – they knew we were in the house, and we knew they were there!"

Elsie would never tell Charles, but Isobel had confided that when she was pregnant, her libido was stronger than normal.

"The worst part was running into Isobel in the hall on my way back from the bathroom." Charles shook his head. "Both of us trying to avoid each other's eyes, scurrying back to our respective bedrooms-"

"And both of you well aware of what had been going on right before then. It's a wonder none of us woke Mairin!"

They both laughed, not worried about anyone overhearing them. The room where their table was had filled up while they ate, and was nearly full. A live band played from the bar. Some people had gotten up to dance nearby.

"I should tell you, so you know," Charles began, wiping his eyes. "Your father said something to me Tuesday morning when we were working on his car. About you and I." His ears turned red.

"What did he say?" Elsie was curious. It had taken her almost two years for her to tell Mam that she and Charles were intimate. Her mother had given her a short lecture on safety and responsibility, then let the matter rest. Elsie knew Mam had told Da, but he had never said anything directly to her – not that she had expected him to.

"Well," Charles scratched the back of his neck. "He asked me point blank if I used protection."

Water almost spurted out of Elsie's mouth. "Wha- _at?_ " she set her glass down and covered her face. "Oh my god, I can't believe he asked that to your face-"

Her father was usually direct. But not about something as delicate as sex.

"You're his daughter. I don't blame him for asking. When I told him of course I did, that I cared about you and felt responsible for my part of the relationship, he looked relieved. I didn't tell him that you've been responsible for your part, too," he hastily said. "I thought that would be too much information for him."

Pressing her lips together, Elsie nodded. "I know why he asked. Did I tell you about Joe Burns?"

"Yeah. And what's-her-name."

"Mariah. She's due in October."

"You said you saw Joe before he left Glasgow, right?"

"I did," she admitted. She took another sip of water, a smaller one. "He said he was looking forward to moving to the flat, and getting ready for the baby, but that he'd miss being at the university. He was hoping to be the first person in his family to graduate. Now, who knows?"

"That's too bad." Charles understood the pressure. His father had gotten some technical training when he was younger, but had never gone to university. Neither had his mum. "Anyway," he went on, not wanting to talk about Joe anymore, "Your father also said he was very proud of you."

 _Sweet Da._ "That's nice of him. Did he say anything else?"

"No," he said quickly, taking a drink of water from his own glass. "You know him better than I do. He gets straight to the point when he has something to say. He's not one for small talk."

"Very true." Her eyes wandered to the dancing couples near them. The music wasn't as loud as in the bar, but it carried into the larger room just fine. The live band finished their song. After the applause, they began another.

"That singer's not quite James Arthur," Charles said, breaking Elsie from her reverie.

"Never mind…I like this song," she smiled at him.

"Which part? The line about throwing up?"

"Ugh, no," she wrinkled her nose. "But we did meet 'in the dark' that night at Downton, and 'you lit me up'…"

He got up and held out his hand, making up his mind all at once. "Will you dance with me?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." Her eyes twinkled.

It was one of his favorite things, and hers. She fit into his arms perfectly.

They didn't do anything fancy, just swayed along to the music. She hummed.

The fairy lights glowed above them on the ceiling.

 _I met you in the dark_

 _You lit me up_

 _You made me feel as though_

 _I was enough…_

He hoped his hands didn't sweat, and give him away.

 _I knew I needed you_

 _But I never showed_

 _But I wanna stay with you_

 _Until we're grey and old_

 _Just say you won't let go…_

"I'm very selfish," he murmured. She lifted her head from his chest. He looked down at her, his face solemn.

Except for that dark curl that never behaved itself.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not enough for me to spend time with you every few weeks," he caressed his fingers across her cheek, letting his thumb kiss the corner of her mouth. "I want to be with you all the time."

It didn't surprise her that their impending separation was weighing on him.

"I know," she said softly. "I want that too. That hardly makes either of us selfish."

 _I'm so in love with you_

 _And I hope you know_

 _Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold_

 _We've come so far my dear_

 _Look how we've grown_

 _And I wanna stay with you_

 _Until we're grey and old…_

"Do you remember after my graduation, when I said I was going with Robert and John?"

"Yes," she blinked. She wondered what that had to do with their conversation. He seemed scattered-brained, not like himself at all.

"I didn't go to Spain. I lied. We hadn't planned any holiday."

"Oh?" She was utterly baffled. _**Why would he say that, if he didn't mean it?**_

He came to a complete stop, and she stopped with him.

It was all he could do to keep his breathing even. He was glad there were three or four couples dancing; they weren't as conspicuous standing in the corner.

"I stayed an extra day in Cambridge. Your parents were very kind to come all that way just for my graduation, and I wanted to thank them properly. And…" he took a deep breath, letting go of her waist and taking her hand. "Their train didn't leave until that night. They didn't take the early train, like you thought, because they knew I wanted to talk to them. About you."

His voice, as ever, made her feel like she was going to melt into a puddle. He looked at her as though she was the only person in the room.

The only person in the world.

Her heart beat so fast it was almost a flutter. She bit her lip, more to keep herself from saying anything, while inside her head, she was doing cartwheels.

She couldn't feel the floor beneath her feet.

"There's never been anyone but you," he whispered. "Really, ever since the day you found me in the rain by the football pitch at Downton. That's when I first loved you. I'll never stop."

 _ **Am I hearing this right?**_

 _ **Yes. Yes, you are.**_

He got down on one knee. Tears came to her eyes, and she had a mad desire to laugh and cry at the same time.

 _ **Of course he'd be traditional.**_

 _ **This is happening this is REALLY happening oh my god ohmygodohmygodohmygod**_

She did not think it possible to love him any more than she could at that moment.

"Elsie Hughes, will you marry me?"

Nodding, she was overcome with emotion. "Yes," she managed to say. "Yes, Charles, I'll marry you, yes, yes-"

The room blurred. He pulled a ring out of his pocket and slipped it on her finger. She saw it glimmer in the dim light, but at the moment the man in front of her was far more important.

He was hers, for now and forever.

He stood up and she jumped into his arms. They kissed, him spinning slowly, oblivious to everyone else watching.

 _I wanna live with you_

 _Even when we're ghosts_

' _Cause you were always there for me_

 _When I needed you most_

 _I'm gonna love you til_

 _My lungs give out_

 _I promise till death we part_

 _Like in our vows_

 _Just say you won't let go_

 _Just say you won't let go…_

"You've made me the happiest man on the planet," he said before his lips captured hers again. His voice broke. "God, I'm _so_ happy. I love you." He gently set her down and they stood with their arms around each other, their heads together.

"I love you, too." Every part of her body was tingling. She felt electric. Giddy, almost. But in her heart she felt a certain calm.

Like she was finally home.

The sound of soft clapping reached their ears. Charles grinned bashfully at the smiling faces around them. "Thank you," he murmured to a man who said congratulations.

Elsie didn't mind the attention from others. It wasn't excessive. She nodded thanks at a white-haired couple sitting at the table next to theirs.

"Did you tell the band to play this song?" Elsie whispered, humming against his mouth. "Right now, at this time?"

"I didn't plan it that way, no," he murmured. "It's just a happy coincidence. Now," he grinned, kissed her on the top of her head and stepped back, putting one hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist. "I'd like to continue our dance, if you don't mind."

She took a breath and laughed, even while tears were in her eyes. " _You_ were the one to stop dancing! And now you're telling me in no uncertain terms to shut up and dance with you!"

They both remembered their first dance, and their first song.

Kissing her hand, he swayed to the music. "I'd never be so rude, or be so stupid as to tell you to shut your mouth," he cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sorry I stopped earlier?"

"You booby, of course I'm not," she sighed, relishing the feel of his arms around her.

"I should have asked them to play 'Shut Up and Dance,'" Charles joked. "I feel like jumping around the room as it is."

He felt more alive, for lack of a better word, than he had ever felt before.

 _This is the beginning of the rest of my life. Our life._

 _Together._

"I know," she giggled. "It's like I'll float to the ceiling, if you weren't holding onto me!"

They kept dancing, just enjoying the moment. She was very surprised that he had been able to surprise her like that.

"I thought you would go for a formal evening," she admitted. "And take me somewhere like the May Ball. I never thought you'd propose while we were here."

"Which was my goal," he smirked. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan something like this without you finding out? The more people that knew, the more I worried that someone would slip-"

"Who else knew besides Mam and Da? Your parents, I assume."

"And Granddad. He was so excited," Charles grinned, remembering. He leaned down and kissed her nose. "He's been waiting for this."

"I can't wait to see him," she said, feeling a surge of warmth for the old man.

"Good. Because he wants to know what you think of the ring."

She lifted her left hand from his shoulder to get a better look at it. It fit her perfectly. "That isn't a diamond, is it?" There was a small center stone, with smaller ones on either side.

"The one in the middle is a sapphire," he said. "With diamonds on either side. I know, it's hard to see in here."

She liked the way it looked on her hand. It looked nothing like most of the engagement rings she'd seen. It was intricate, delicate. Sapphires were her favorite stone (not that she had ever thought about it in depth, but she loved blue).

"It's perfect for me," she raised herself on her toes and kissed him. "It's lovely – did your grandfather help you pick it out?"

Picturing the two of them ring shopping was adorable.

"He gave it to me," he smiled widely at her stunned expression. "It belonged to my Gran…he had bought it for her on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary."

"He didn't have to give it to you," she said in awe. "Maybe your grandmother wanted one of your aunts to have it."

Charles shook his head. "She said when I was twelve that it was mine, to give to my future wife. She was quite insistent that I give it to the _right_ woman, though," he remembered. "She told me, 'Lamb, don't go giving it to the first girl to catch your eye! Remember, love is patient.'"

"Wise woman," Elsie mused. "I wish I could have met her."

He swallowed hard. "Me too."

"Who else knew you were going to propose?" She asked, not wanting him to feel sad.

"John. In case you tried to contact me during the fake holiday. I didn't trust Robert."

He couldn't wait to call both of his friends.

"Naturally." She was grateful.

"But that means it's _highly_ likely that Anna knows. That was almost two months ago," Charles extended his arm to let her twirl underneath. "I don't think John could keep a secret from her for that long. Oh, and Richard and Isobel know, of course."

"Of course!" She cried. She huffed under her breath, both pleased and annoyed that one of her closest friends knew something _she_ didn't. Even if it was for a good reason. "She'll have to make it up to me!"

"Actually, I thought in a way this is paying her back," he laughed. "She told you about her and Richard's engagement before she told anyone else."

"Violet knew." Elsie raised her eyebrows.

He mirrored her expression. "She didn't tell her cousin, Violet guessed what had happened. That doesn't count."

"I hope you've avoided Downton this summer, then," she teased. "Otherwise she would've guessed you were going to propose just by looking at you."

"She hasn't been there. She's been in the Mediterranean. Isobel mentioned it. That's different for her, she usually stays in the UK during the holidays…"

"Maybe she has a boyfriend." Elsie laughed under her breath. "She's not bad-looking, and she's been a widow for a _loooooong_ time."

"Ha ha," Charles said drily, rolling his eyes. He couldn't help laughing himself at her silliness. "Whatever her love life, all I care about right now," he chortled, catching his breath, "is that you're my fiancée."

Just saying it out loud made his heart feel like it was going to explode with joy.

Her eyes glittered beneath the tiny light lights dancing above them. "And that you're mine."

The music went on around them as they kissed.

* * *

Before they reached the long road back to the Hughes home, Charles turned off the main road and shut the car off. They got out and sat on the bonnet. It was warm, and stars appeared through the clouds overhead, but otherwise it was dark.

Neither of the couple noticed.

"Charlie…" Elsie breathed against his ear as she straddled his lap. His big hands slid down her back, over her bum, and along her legs. She moaned.

"I can stop, if you want to," he murmured against her neck. It would be difficult – _very_ difficult - but not impossible.

But the way she felt against him was incredible. He could kiss her forever.

And they had so little opportunity for that, or for anything more…

"Wait," she gasped after several more minutes of frenzied kissing. Charles stopped fumbling with her bra. His shirt was on the windshield, and hers dangled from one of the side mirrors. "Wait," she repeated, shifting her weight back. She ran a hand through her hair. It was wild. "We can't do this. Not here." She bit her lip, very glad of the darkness. "Unless you have…protection."

He could tell from her posture that her face must be as red as his, recalling their earlier conversation. "Um," he cleared his throat, trying not to let the moment slip away, "As a matter of fact, I do."

He silently thanked Richard for convincing him to bring extras along.

A laugh bubbled out of Elsie's throat. "Thank God," she muttered. She leaned in to kiss him again. His tongue slide over hers. "Mmm," she hummed, tasting his lower lip.

 _He is such a good kisser. And he is mine._

He cupped her face in his hands. "Let's go someplace more comfortable, shall we?"

"Where?" she asked, her mind hazy. They slid off the bonnet and he led her around the car. "We can't go in the house."

He opened the passenger side door and put down the seat. Even in the dim light, she could see a wicked grin on his face. "Do you want to be on top, or should I?"

Her heart almost stopped. Him, wearing nothing but his trousers, his belt unbuckled. His thumbs hooked in his pockets.

"Mr. Carson." It came out like a purr. He almost lost his composure on the spot. "This behavior is not very becoming of a future barrister, or a former Head Boy at Downton School."

"No," he agreed. "But I hope that it's behavior acceptable as your future husband."

 _How can his voice DO that to me?_

"Fortunately it is," she said, straightening her shoulders. "Get in the car."

"You sound like a Head Girl," he teased, obeying. He'd yet to tell her, but he rather liked being bossed around by her during sex. He was fairly sure she knew that. "Anything else you want me to do?" He laid down on the reclined seat, draping his long arms above him. He grunted when she climbed on top of him.

"Yes," she breathed, removing his belt. He stopped breathing when she took off her bra. She tossed it onto the driver's seat and leaned forward until they were skin on skin. "Make love to me."

"God, I love you," he moaned. He began trailing a line of light kisses along her shoulder to her collarbone. "My fiery lass, my bride to be."

 _I never would have ended up with a Head Girl, or anyone I was supposed to._

She had always forged her own way, unafraid, and he was eternally grateful she wanted _him._

"There," she ran her fingers into his hair as he pushed her up to lavish attention on her breasts. "Oh god, _there_."

It was times like these that she didn't know how she got so lucky. He could have had anyone, but he chose _her._

He sucked on the soft loveliness that was her nipples, keeping the touch of his lips light. He knew she loved to be teased, and from the sound of her voice spiraling, he was well on his way to making her happy.

"Oh my god," she sucked in a breath. The friction of their bodies moving against each other, his warm hands on either side of her torso, his mouth his _tongue_ -

She let out a cry. "I'm going to come like this if you don't stop-" she gasped. Her hips moved of their own accord.

"Do." His voice was muffled, buried in between her breasts.

With extreme effort, she pulled herself from his embrace. She forgot they were in his rental car, and she hit the back of her head on the low ceiling, but even that only broke her concentration for an instant. She raised herself as much as she could on her knees. Fumbling, with shaking fingers, she unzipped her jeans, and managed to peel them from herself.

They were thrown onto the driver's seat. Followed by her underwear.

She took off her shoes. And for good measure, took his off, too.

"I need you. God, please," she trembled, almost crying. She lowered herself onto him again and kissed him on the mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders. " _Please_."

He kept one hand on the small of her back. The other followed the curve of her bum and traveled between her legs. All the while he kissed her neck. Along her jaw.

Slow.

"Touch me, god, yes, _mo ghraidh,_ " she begged, incoherent. The hair on his chest brushed against her breasts, but it was the feel of his mouth at her ear and his fingers stroking her that drove her crazy.

 _So good him touch good y-y-y-e-e-e-e-e-s-s-s-s_

Her voice was loud in the enclosed space. High screams, her body arching above him.

He gave and gave and gave, loving the sounds of her shattering. It was so dark he could barely make out her silhouette. Her hair brushed his face.

"Mmmm," she sighed, panting hard, her mouth against his shoulder. He caressed her back while she kissed him. Trying not to move too much, he lifted his hips and dug out a small package from his pocket, then unzipped his jeans.

His pleasure was obvious.

She blinked slowly, and raised herself on her hands and knees, her face just above his. She ran her fingers down from his chest to his abdomen and further. Feeling his warm, almost hot skin. His strong muscles as he yanked off his trousers and boxers.

For some reason, she loved his legs. The hair on them, contrasted with the smoothness of her own.

"Can you-" he handed her the package. She took it from him, and told herself to be careful. The very last thing either of them wanted was for her to tear it.

Her fiancé was in no condition to open the package himself. He fell back onto the reclined seat and thrust his hands into his hair, his chest heaving, his breathing louder than hers. "Shit, Elsie, please hurry, god I need you _now_ -"

Her steady fingers worked their magic, and a moment later they were fully together.

He shouted. The sound was almost painful in her ears, but he felt so good she didn't care.

His mind went blank. There was nothing but her, feeling touch taste pleasure desire, god her more more HER HER HER

Hardness melded into softness, black hair with red.

Had anyone been walking in the countryside nearby, they would have been able to hear a woman's muffled keening and a man's deep voice bellowing from inside the car.

Fortunately for the lovers, no one heard them.

She lay sprawled on top of him, her hair and skin damp. Sweat glistened on his chest and beaded on his forehead.

"I love you," he murmured as they kissed one more time. "But I can't breathe in here…"

She was having difficulty herself. The air was stifling.

Elsie managed to open the car door. Cool night air rushed into the space. She ran her hand along her cheek, feeling its heat. She barked out a laugh as she glanced back at the windshield.

"That looks like the car in fucking _Titanic_. Without a handprint." It was completely steamed up.

"It's way better than that," he sat up and pulled on his boxers as she slid into the driver's seat. "We're nowhere close to the north Atlantic, or an iceberg right now, either."

They put their clothes back on and returned to sitting on the bonnet. They left the passenger side and driver's side doors open. Charles wanted to air out the car. It smelled like sex, he said.

"It smells like you," Elsie nudged him. She lifted his arm that was draped around her shoulders and kissed his wrist. "What, you don't think the next person who rents it will approve of the scent?"

They talked about telling family and friends about their engagement. Ordinarily, both would have wanted to start calling people immediately, but it was so late they thought it best to wait until the morning.

And both of them were rather glad to have the secret just to themselves for at least a night.

"We'll have to wait," Charles murmured against her temple. "To get married. Until after you graduate. Unless you want to be like Mr. and Mrs. Clarkson."

"I'd marry you tomorrow, if I knew it meant we could be together," Elsie sighed. "But I'd rather wait until I _know_ we can live together all the time. Richard and Isobel's situation was different. That was them. Our wedding should be about us. Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes."

"Mmmm," Charles sat up, pulling her back against his chest. "What _do_ you want our wedding to be like? And where? My family's mostly in Yorkshire, yours is in Scotland. Our friends are scattered all over."

"I don't know." Elsie didn't feel particularly like figuring out details at the moment. She was content to enjoy the quiet night around them. "Are you set on it being a church wedding? I'm fine with it being in a church, or somewhere else. I'm not picky."

"What do _you_ want?" He persisted.

She blew air through her nose. "I really don't know. I could see it being somewhere here. The George hosts weddings too, you know. Only certain times during the year, though. Not in the summer. Or we could get married in Yorkshire. Your grandfather would like that – we could get married in the church where he and your gran got married."

"That would be sweet," he said. "But that would mean making your family travel."

"Either way, one of our families will have to travel. But we don't have to get married in Yorkshire or Scotland. We're not confined to that." She grinned at him. "You'd love the south of France. All the wine…"

"And you've wanted to go to America ever since Cora invited you there," he scratched the back of his neck, grinning. "What's the name of that place where her parents have a summer home? Newport?"

"India!" Elsie cried, holding her arms up. "That's it! Imogen's sister's best friend got married there last year…you should see the pictures! Days of celebrations, the bright colors, the dancing…"

"And the heat," Charles started to laugh. "All right, India it is."

"Daft man," she touched his face. "As wonderful as that would be, neither of us could do that to our families. Most of our friends wouldn't be able to go. Peter, definitely. Robert would be there of course; he'd go to Tasmania if you told him that's where the party was. But Becky can't really go much farther than France. And by then Richard and Isobel will have two little ones."

"If not more, at the rate they're going." He gave her a squeeze. "Well, you'll have to think about it. But really – I'll marry you anywhere. Whatever you want, we'll make it happen."

"Thank you," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

They drove back to Elsie's childhood home. A light was visible in the front room, beckoning them inside. Just like Da had promised.

Charles kissed her once more before she tiptoed upstairs to her bedroom. No noise came from Mam and Da's room, and Becky snored on the other bed across from hers.

Maybe it wouldn't make sense to most people, getting engaged and married so young. But they wanted to spend their lives together. Why wait?

Not that Elsie cared much what anyone thought.

She cried out of sheer joy, tucked into bed. The feel of the ring on her hand made the night that much more real.

 _For the rest of our lives._

He couldn't stop smiling, and wondered if he'd be able to go to sleep.

 _Forever._

* * *

 ***BPTC – Bar Professional Training Course. Further education to become a barrister in the U.K. (Disclaimer: I don't really know anything about the process except what I've read on the internet, so please don't take me as an expert.)**

 ***The song that's playing while they're at The George in Inveraray is James Arthur's "Say You Won't Let Go". It's my most recent favorite Chelsie song.**

 ***Thanks to ericajanebarry, our resident Richobel expert, who let me use a name for their daughter. It's perfect! Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: First, the most important thing.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful chelsietothenorthern, who has** _ **so patiently**_ **been waiting for the update on this fic. Her birthday was last week. Do send her birthday wishes, if you haven't already. She is always so encouraging to me and other fic writers, and it means more than I can say to have her support – and to call her friend. All the love and blessings to you dear, on your special day, and always!**

 **Now to a quick summary as to what's going on with this story (since it has been a ridiculously long time since the last update): Charles and Elsie are in Scotland, visiting her parents in the summer. She's got two years left at university in Glasgow. He's just graduated from Cambridge and he's starting his BPTC in London, training to become a barrister. He proposed and surprise! She accepted. Richard and Isobel are married with a daughter named Mairin, and they have another child on the way.**

 **Most of Charles and Elsie's friends are from the canon Downton crowd, including Tom and Sybil. In this fic, they're similar ages – I didn't want you all to get confused. Two exceptions from the canon crowd who make appearances this chapter are Peter, who was Charles's roommate at Cambridge, and Julia, Elsie's roommate at Glasgow.**

 **Elsie's dress is based on the Rebecca Ingram creation, "Nancy". I do love researching for Chelsie weddings; it's too much fun…**

 **I could've gone on forever with wedding prep/wedding day/conversations between people. But the honeymoon's been in the queue for** _ **ages**_ **. I hope you all don't mind.**

 **Bits of M in here, warning, blah blah, you know the drill.**

 **I think that's all the really important stuff. On with the story!**

* * *

Of course Mam and Da knew of the proposal. Elsie had known they knew when Charlie had told her of them staying longer in Cambridge after his graduation.

"We didn't like lying to you then," Da confessed the next morning as he spread jam on Becky's toast. His eyes twinkled. "But we thought you would forgive us."

"I do," Elsie bent over and kissed him on the cheek. "You're all plotters."

Mam turned her head from the stove. "You would know, my girl," she grinned. "You learned from the best." She moved the bacon from the frying pan to a plate and set it on the table. Becky's eyes gleamed. Elsie snatched the plate and moved it farther away from her. She thought her sister couldn't really reach it, but they never took chances.

"Are you saying the apple doesn't fall far from the tree?" Elsie teased. Blowing on some of the smaller pieces of bacon, she set three of them on Becky's plate. She and Da both laughed when the brown-haired girl grabbed a piece and stuffed it in her mouth. "Mam made it just the way you like it – crispy!"

"You get your plotting ways more from your mother than from me," Da said. "It must be something women carry with them."

Charles came back inside. The front door groaned when he shoved it all the way closed. "Mmm, it smells good in here." He hovered in the kitchen doorway watching the quiet domestic scene. Parents and children. Plates, cups, coffee, tea, toast, jam, fried eggs, sausage, baked beans and tattie scones covering the table. Having just got off the phone with his parents, he suddenly saw it through Mr. and Mrs. Hughes's eyes: their family, the way it had always been. The four of them.

It made him feel a little like an intruder.

But only for a moment.

Elsie's face broke into the beautiful smile he knew well, and it made his heart sing.

 _She looks at_ _me_ _like that!_

"Did you talk to them?" She asked. "Sometimes the signal doesn't work up here."

"It was fine. I walked up the lane a bit. It's a beautiful morning." Becky waved cheerily, and Elsie's father smiled and wished him good morning.

"It is that. Good morning, Charles," Elsie's mother gave him a warm smile that reminded him of his own mum. "Breakfast is nearly ready, and there's plenty – even for you." She squeezed his arm.

"Good morning. Thanks, it all looks really good." He sat down next to Elsie. Kissing his fiancée, he told himself not to linger on her lips too long. She wouldn't agree with him, but he thought she looked even better in the morning light than she had the night before, with her messy hair, rumpled t-shirt and shorts.

"What did they say? Did you ring Granddad, too?" She grabbed several slices of toast and spread jam on them for him.

"They were pleased. Very, very, _very_ happy," he said, feeling as though his heart was going to bubble right out of his chest. "Even though they knew I was going to ask you, I think most of Yorkshire heard Mum."

Everyone laughed.

Charles told them all about his conversation in detail. There was less to say about what Granddad said. Mostly because the old man had choked up on the phone.

"I'll ring him later today," Elsie promised, her voice soft. "I want to thank him myself." Her sapphire and diamond ring sparkled in the light coming through the window.

The day passed quickly, with both the newly-engaged couple busy talking to family and friends. Most people they knew were not surprised, but all of them were delighted.

"I'm kind of overwhelmed," Charles confided that afternoon. He jogged several feet to pick up the football Becky had sent sailing his direction. He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I knew _I_ would be happy, but it's surprising to hear how happy everyone else is, too."

He had been so focused on proposing, and Elsie accepting, that he had spared almost no thought to anything else.

Elsie laughed, then sighed. "I know what you mean…but it's not like you thought anyone would be upset about it. Did you?"

"No. Just everyone seems _really_ happy." Robert's exuberance was expected. As was Peter's. Charles had rarely heard John Bates so thrilled, except when he talked about Anna.

"I'm glad your friends are as thrilled as mine are." Elsie twirled in a circle along with Becky. The two giggled, linking hands and dancing about like wild things.

When they were together, it was obvious they were sisters. They shared a bond that was different from that of her friends. As much as Elsie loved them.

Beryl had shrieked so loud Elsie had had to hold her mobile away from her ear. Phyllis was delighted, and Anna had gotten a little teary. Julia was already planning a hen party in Glasgow.

Charles and Elsie had called Richard and Isobel and told them together. The other couple was, of course, not surprised. But that had not stopped them from expressing their joy. Isobel had cried, then joked it was only her hormones. Richard laughed and congratulated the newly engaged couple, telling them that they were meant to be married.

"I want Becky to be my maid of honor," Elsie said that evening as she and Charles sat with her parents. "She doesn't understand, but I couldn't ask someone else. The other bridesmaids will have to do the usual things in her place, but on the day, I want her there beside me."

Mam's eyes brimmed with tears. "Lass, that's very sweet of you."

"How many bridesmaids are you planning to have? And groomsmen?" Da asked. He poured whisky into four glasses and put them on the table.

Elsie and Charles exchanged glances. "We're not sure," Elsie said. "At least two each. We both have several friends."

Da sat down across from her. "We can't promise a lot," he looked her and Charles in the eye. "But your Mam and I want you both to have the day _you_ want. Ask whoever you want to be in the wedding. We'll figure out the rest."

Elsie felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thank you," she whispered. "We promise, we're not asking for a royal wedding-" her parents laughed, and Charles squeezed her hand, "-or anything very extravagant. But we do appreciate your wanting us to have something we want, for our day."

She saw a certain glint in Mam's eyes, and knew what she was thinking.

 _There'll only be one wedding in this family._

It was something she knew her mother had long come to accept, that Becky would never be like her. It didn't hurt anymore, Mam had told her several years before, but it made certain life events more poignant.

Now that she was older, she understood what Mam meant.

"We have some time to plan," Charles leaned forward in his chair. "We want to be married as soon as Elsie finishes her course, but that won't be for another two years."

Elsie blew several hairs out of her face. "That seems like such a long time!"

"It won't be, as the day gets closer." Mam fingered her own wedding ring. "I thought our wedding day would _never_ arrive, but near the end I almost went out of my mind with everything that had to be done."

Da took her hand and kissed it. "Your Mam had a bit of a temper in those days."

"I did," she admitted. Da raised his eyebrows at Charles.

"I told her I would still be there to marry her. No matter what."

His future son-in-law nodded earnestly. "Nothing's going to change my mind."

Elsie nudged him playfully. "That's right. You're stuck with me."

"Which is the point," he kissed her nose, grinning.

Da raised his glass, and the others followed suit. "To you both. May you be happy, healthy, and have a long life together filled with love."

* * *

Narrowing dates down was easier than figuring out where to have their wedding. Or how many people would be in it.

In late October, Elsie visited Isobel and Mairin for several days during the term break.

"On the one hand, it's quite simple," she said, holding the baby's hands as she walked along the sofa. "It's got to be here in the U.K., if nothing else than for Becky's sake. The easiest thing for Mam and Da is for us to get married in Scotland, but to be honest, I don't want to." She bit her lip. It made her feel guilty. She loved her childhood home, but there wasn't a place there that felt right for her and Charlie's wedding.

"Then don't get married in Scotland," Isobel said, ever pragmatic. She shifted a little, moving a pillow behind her back. It made her growing belly look bigger. "If it's not what _you_ want, then you shouldn't feel obligated to go there. Your parents aren't forcing you."

"No, they aren't." Elsie pulled Mairin onto her lap and bounced her on her knee. The baby laughed, which made her smile. "Lately Charlie and I were talking about Yorkshire again. The church where his grandparents got married. But he's found he doesn't really have a connection there – a personal one," she explained. "Of course Granddad loves it. It would be convenient for Charles's family, but he's only been there for Christmas and Easter."

"It sound like you're looking for a place that means something to you both." Isobel shook her head. "The answer is obvious to me. I can't believe you haven't thought of it."

"Where?" Elsie asked her friend. "The only place I can think of that's special to us is Downton, of course, but-"

"But what?" Isobel grinned. "But it's a school? Elsie Hughes, surely you know it has hosted weddings in the summer holidays before. Do I need to remind you it used to be a house?"

Elsie opened her mouth, then shut it. She knew more about the history of Downton than most of its students and graduates, having spent so much time organizing its archives.

 _Detention did have its uses._

The more she thought of it, the more the idea took root. It was at Downton where she and Charlie had met; where their relationship had started; where they fell in love.

 _Our first kiss, on the roof._

"And if you're worried that the inside is too grand, you can always have a tent outside," Isobel continued. "The grounds are quite popular for weddings. Though, knowing your fiancé, he'd prefer to be married on the cricket pitch."

They both snorted with laughter. "The best man would like that, too," Elsie hiccupped, which made them laugh harder.

It took very little time to convince Charles that they should get married at Downton. He was thrilled, as was she.

Though he and Richard both tried for quite a while to convince the bride that the wedding would be entirely appropriate on the cricket pitch. They failed to change her mind.

There were other reasons for the bride and groom to be happy.

The fee that was normally charged for renting Downton was cut in half.

The headmistress made sure of that.

* * *

 _ **August, two years later**_

Wispy clouds floated in the warm summer sky. Sunlight speckled the green lawn, the white canopy tent, and the chairs arranged in rows. More and more guests were arriving.

Charles was glad at the moment he didn't have to greet anyone. He stood with his groomsmen in the shadow of Downton.

"I still think the cricket pitch would've been better," Robert said, his arms crossed.

"Here, here," Richard and Thomas Barrow chorused together.

Charles grinned. He expected nothing less from his old teammates. "I do too, but Elsie wanted us to get married here. Every time I tried to argue, she'd roll her eyes."

"Better to let the bride have her way," John reached over and brushed lint off of Charles's suit jacket.

"It was the wise thing to do," the groom agreed, nodding.

Laughing, Peter slapped Charles on the back. "Oh, come on. You were digging in your heels, _insisting_ that you should get an equal say in the matter – until she threatened to cut off sex."

"Oooohhhh," groaned Robert. " _Really!?_ " Peter and Thomas only laughed harder, while Charles's face went beet red.

"That is _not_ what she meant – it wasn't that drastic-"

"Oh wasn't it?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "She said, and I quote, 'We'll have fifty years of equal say, but the wedding day is MINE.' And then when you said that as the groom, you deserved an equal voice in the planning, she said, 'Keep talking and the only word you'll hear from my voice is no."

"Great friend you are," grumbled Charles playfully as his supporters laughed. "That was a private conversation! You and Mei just happened to be there! Never trust a ginger," he mock-glared at Peter. His former roommate just continued laughing at him.

"It's not like he said anything we didn't already know," Richard wiped tears of laughter off his face. "Elsie has the whip hand over you, and she's not afraid to use it."

Their laughter and conversation continued. Anna did come over to them once, mostly to check that they all still looked presentable. And also to let John have a good look at her blue bridesmaid's dress. Richard left twice to check on the flower girls. He brought Saoirse over to the men the second time.

"Mum has Mairin under control, but I thought I'd give her a break with the baby for a few minutes. She's been clingy lately." He took the cloth on his shoulder and wiped his younger daughter's chin. "You look beautiful, precious," he cooed. "Let's not get dirty until _after_ the ceremony, okay?"

Thomas stood behind him and made faces at her. Saoirse giggled.

"She won't be the baby, not for long," Charles smiled. "The new baby will be born close to her second birthday, right?"

Richard swayed with his toddler daughter on his hip. "Yes. And then we're going to have a break before even _thinking_ about another one. I told Bel I was happy with two children, but, well-"

"Mrs. Clarkson convinced you otherwise. No surprise there…" Thomas reached out and took the little girl from him. "It's not a bad thing. Your girls are beautiful. They take after their mum, of course." He grinned. Richard rolled his eyes.

"Of course."

"For your sake, I hope the next one is a boy," John said.

"Yeah, there needs to be a Clarkson on a future Downton team," Charles said.

Richard raised his eyebrows. "Who says there won't be? My dad got Mairin a little cricket bat for her birthday. She has a good swing!"

"Likely better than poor old Molesley's," Robert said under his breath.

"It's better than _mine_ ," Peter nodded. "She almost hit me in the face yesterday."

Charles turned slightly when he saw who was coming towards him. "Mum!"

He was relieved to see his grandfather waving from near the tent – his father had left early that morning to get him and bring him to Downton.

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Everything's fine. I'm glad your father and granddad got here – another five minutes, and I would've been worried.

Elizabeth Carson smiled at Charles, brushing the lapel of his jacket, straightening his cuffs. "My little boy," she whispered, her voice wobbling a little. "Not so little…you're all grown up, and getting married!"

"I'll always be your little boy," he said, hugging her. He still remembered when she was taller than he was.

"They're just about ready," she said, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a tissue. "Ainsley-Mrs. Hughes, that is, is getting all the bridesmaids together. Saoirse needs to come with me now. Come along, love," she cooed, taking the girl from Thomas.

"How does Elsie look?" Charles couldn't resist asking. He hadn't seen his fiancée since dinner the night before.

His mother beamed. "Stunning."

* * *

Despite the crowd gathered to watch, Charles was not very nervous.

He kept glancing over his shoulder as Julia, Anna, Isobel, and Beryl processed into the tent as a string quartet played beneath the trees nearby. There was a chorus of _awwwwwws_ as Mairin and Saoirse walked slowly up the aisle in between the seats. Both of them tossed flower petals out of their little baskets with evident glee; Saoirse flung them to either side, sometimes spraying guests with red and pink petals. No one minded.

The groom bit his lip, fighting not to laugh.

 _The two of them will be excellent cricket players._

Becky was solemn, not like her usual self, as she walked towards the front. But then she gave Charles a dramatic fist bump, before kissing his cheek. The crowd laughed when she skipped back to her place beside the other bridesmaids. Beryl tucked her arm through Becky's. It was a sign of affection, but also to keep her still – as much as possible.

The musicians stopped playing, and Charles straightened. Richard patted him on the back.

It took all of his willpower not to turn when he heard the quartet playing "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring". Or when he heard the guests stand up.

Or when he heard their collective gasp.

He let out a breath when Richard grinned, having looked over his shoulder. His best man nudged him. Charles turned around.

Elsie was only steps away from him on her father's arm.

The groom looked right past his father-in-law. The only person he saw was his bride.

Her figure-hugged dress clung to her curvy shape. It had lots of lace; of that, he was certain. The cap sleeves showed off her shoulders, and the V-neck almost killed him. Her hair was half up, similar to the way it had been styled for the May Ball.

What Charles saw most, though (despite the V-neck), was Elsie's face. She beamed at him. In her eyes was a mixture of nerves and love, and most of all, joy.

Like they had rehearsed, Mr. Hughes did not give her hand to Charles. Instead, father and daughter embraced each other. As Mr. Hughes went back to his seat with a warm nod at the groom, Elsie came forward and took Charles's hands.

 _I choose you._

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful. He thought of whispering " _I love you_."

Instead, he leaned over and kissed her. Full on the mouth.

Laughter and applause broke out among the guests.

Elsie smiled against her groom's lips. He had surprised her, of course, but from the second she'd seen the back of him, she wanted to kiss him.

From his humming, he was in no hurry to stop, either.

"Ahem," Reverend Travis said in a low voice as whistling began to erupt on all sides, "I'm all for the bride and groom kissing each other, but we _do_ need to get to your vows."

He cleared his throat as the couple ignored him. "Whenever you're ready, of course."

* * *

The ceremony had ended. The vows having been made to the satisfaction of Reverend Travis, it was time to party.

The wedding party and their guests dined on a wedding breakfast inside Downton, in the hall.

Violet met the newlyweds as they left their seats to cut the cake.

"Thank you _so_ much for the reduced fee," Elsie said as the older woman gave her a fond hug. "Da is even more grateful than I am – I'm sure he'll thank you before the afternoon is over."

"He already has." Violet took Charles's hand as she held on to Elsie's. "Don't mention it, dears. I'm delighted you decided to get married here."

"It was the best place for us," Charles glanced at Elsie. "In the end there wasn't anywhere else that meant more to us."

"Do come back, from time to time," the headmistress told them, smiling. "You both will always be welcome here. My congratulations."

They thanked her again. Charles linked his hand through Elsie's right as they walked towards the cake table.

"That was very nice of her…she always _was_ nice, even when we were at school. Of course I would say that, wouldn't I?" He wagged his eyebrows. "Former Head Boy and all that. Maybe you don't think she was nice. How many times _did_ she send you to detention?"

"I'd have to think about it," Elsie laughed, holding her left hand over her mouth. Her engagement ring, the heirloom from Charles's grandmother, and her new wedding ring sparkled. "At any rate, I doubt she's giving many students detention this coming year."

"Why do you say that? D'you think she's going soft?"

"No…but she does have a boyfriend. That changes things."

Charles came to a dead stop. " _What!?_ "

 _Violet Crawley, with a boyfriend?_

Elsie arched an eyebrow at him. "Charlie, you can't tell me you're surprised. She brought a _date_ to our wedding!"

"I…I know," he stammered as they started walking again, nodding at passing guests. "But I thought he was only a…friend."

She snorted with laughter. "Indeed he is. An old friend. She met Igor Kuragin years ago at university. Some foreign exchange thing…anyway, they reconnected on social media a couple of years ago. They've been meeting during the summer holidays in the Mediterranean. He lives in Croatia now, but he's planning on moving here in the autumn. Isobel told me," she said to her gobsmacked groom. When he said nothing, only continued to stare vacantly into the distance, she frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Perfectly," he said softly after a moment, looking down at her. It's just…life is funny, isn't it? Richard and Isobel are married with two children and another on the way, you and I are married now, and the headmistress of Downton has a foreign boyfriend."

Squeezing his arm, Elsie laughed, nodding. "Life certainly _is_ funny."

They cut the cake, a three-tiered chocolate and raspberry concoction, and fed each other a piece. Charles managed to be clean about it, but Elsie left a smudge of icing on his upper lip.

She took care of that herself.

"It was my fault," she whispered as they led guests back outside. " _I_ was the messy one, so I thought I'd better clean up the mess…I suppose I could have used a napkin." A naughty smile quirked on her face. "Instead of my mouth."

"You won't hear me complaining," Charles rumbled in her ear. "You can kiss me like that anytime." She blushed, and he kissed her hand.

Workers had removed most of the chairs beneath the tent, and the DJ was already playing music. The bride and groom danced to "Say You Won't Let Go". Having heard the song the night they got engaged, they both were fond of it.

Elsie danced with her father, then with Granddad Carson. Charles danced with his mother, then with Ainsley Hughes.

"We're so happy for both of you," his new mother-in-law said as Louie Armstrong's "Wonderful World" lilted in the background.

"It's been a wonderful day," he told her. "We can never thank you or Da enough."

"Just take care of her," her eyes were kind, but serious. "That'll be thanks enough for us."

They both turned to look at the bride, who twirled beneath Granddad's arm.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Charles murmured, slowing down to watch her. "She's always been beautiful, of course, but now-I can't describe it."

"It's the look of a woman in love, my lad," Ainsley smiled.

* * *

Dancing was lovely, and once Elsie started, she felt like she could go on for hours. The sun was beginning to glare in the west by the time she sank down into a chair next to Isobel.

"Oooohh, my feet," she removed one of her shoes and rubbed her foot. "I'm glad we decided to have a bit of a hooley after the breakfast, but I _needed_ to sit."

"You and me together," Isobel moved Mairin's cup closer to her so the little girl could drink from it. "I love to dance, but my feet could never stand it now. Tell me – do you know where you're going on honeymoon? Tom Branson told me you'll be staying at The Grantham Arms tonight, but I didn't suppose you'd be staying here in Yorkshire for the next ten days."

"We aren't. Other than that, I've no idea where we're going," Elsie confessed. "I _did_ say I wanted our honeymoon to be a surprise, but Charlie won't even give me a clue. Beryl keeps dropping not-so-subtle hints about bikinis and the Caribbean, but I know he didn't tell _her_ the location. She would never have been able to keep a secret."

"Mmm," Isobel's eyes danced over the rim of her glass of water. "He did tell Richard."

" _What!?_ " Elsie cried. She glared in Richard's direction, but he was too busy dancing with a giggling Saoirse to notice. "So he knows – did he tell you?"

"No," her friend said stoutly. A slow smile spread across her face. "He knows _I_ have a secret that I'm keeping. For now. We'll tell each other once you and your husband have left."

"A secret-" gasping, Elsie put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my god – you had your scan this week, didn't you? You know what you're having!"

Isobel's fingers skimmed over her round belly, her eyes soft. "I do."

"Oh _please_ tell me," Elsie begged. "If Richard knows something I don't, I'd like to know something _he_ doesn't. Even for a few more hours."

"Well," Isobel glanced over her shoulder to check no one was close enough to hear them. "If the scan is correct, and I'm fairly certain it is," she grinned, "My husband will not be so outnumbered next year."

Elsie had the sense not to let her excitement show too much. "How lovely," she whispered. She leaned over and gave her friend a hug. "Congratulations. Your son will be another wonderful addition to your family."

They sat and chatted for a while, joined by Julia and her partner Imogen, and Robert and Cora.

Charles's former teammate and his American girlfriend had just married in a lavish ceremony in London the previous month. They were flying to Cape Cod for another reception with her family in a few weeks.

"I do hope we can meet sometime when you and Charles are back in London," Cora leaned forward. "Paris is only a train ride away."

"We'll try," Elsie said. "Once the school year begins, I'll barely have time to go to the Tate Modern on weekends!"

She got up when she saw Violet and Igor approaching. She thanked them both for coming, and asked if they had seen Charles. He had been dancing with one of his aunts.

"We did," Igor said. "He was talking to the photographer outside the tent."

Violet fumbled in her purse. "Which reminded me that I needed to give this to you. Keep it. No, no," she held up a hand when Elsie opened her mouth to protest at the object she held out. "I know it's in good hands. And who knows?" She patted Elsie on the arm. "You may need it after today."

Several minutes later, Charles came over to the table. "We're needed again," he grinned. She smiled back.

 _We've both been waiting for this._

"Don't worry," Charles said to their friends. "We'll be back soon. We're not leaving for good this evening just yet."

Jack Ross was by the front doors of Downton. He was a little surprised when they walked by him to go inside.

"This way," Charles told him.

"The light is beautiful just now," the photographer said. "Are you _sure_ you don't want more pictures out here before it gets dark? This is one of the nicest days we've had all summer!"

"Trust me," the groom led them to the grand stairs inside, "Neither of us know much about photography, but we don't think you'll be disappointed."

They made their way through the empty halls. Charles slowed down, pointing out the German classroom. "You know Peter's great-grandmother was born here? Before Downton was a school? He said that classroom was once her bedroom. He said she set it on fire once! That's the story his grandfather told him, anway."

"Did she set it on purpose?" Elsie raised her eyebrows. She hadn't taken German while at school, and had never gone into that particular classroom. "Maybe she was a pyromaniac…"

"Or maybe she had a toaster that hated her."

The two of them cracked up. "Charlie's grandfather has an ancient toaster," Elsie explained to Jack once she stopped laughing. "It's really quite simple to use, but _someone_ can't seem to use it without burning bread – or his eyebrows!"

"I never burned my eyebrows," Charles protested.

"We'd know if you had," Jack replied. "You'd look like a totally different person without them."

They made their way to the end of the science wing, to a forgotten staircase.

"Careful," Charles said as they fumbled their way up the stairs. He hoped it wasn't too dusty. Elsie would be unhappy if her dress got dirty.

Jack coughed behind them. "Where _are_ we going? The ancient torture chamber where bad students used to disappear?"

In the dim light, Charles saw Elsie smiling. "Just wait," she glanced over her shoulder. The two men heard a clink of a key, then the groan of an underused door swinging open.

The evening sun was blinding in their faces.

"Ooh, that's bright," Elsie laughed. She pulled Charles behind her up the last two stairs, then they both turned to help the photographer. "Welcome to the roof of Downton, Mr. Ross."

He blinked when he got to the top, his eyes adjusting. Then he smiled as he surveyed what he could see.

Elsie was well aware he skipped the immediate view of the ugly vents, and the nondescript roof, with its eaves and angles. Below the three of them, the white canopy tent on the lawn gleamed. People, scattered like dots, were milling about. Laughing, talking, eating, drinking, dancing. Music drifted on the breeze.

"Hmmm," Charles hummed, wrapping his arms around Elsie from behind. He whispered in her ear. "Looks like quite a party. I wonder what they're celebrating."

Smiling, she reached up and touched his face. Her ring was cool against his cheek. "I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Carson."

"I have no idea either, Mrs. Carson."

It was not the first time he had called her by that name, but for some reason, it made Elsie giggle to hear it.

"What?" her husband asked, standing up straighter, his eyebrows together. She bit her lip, grinning, wanting to assure him she wasn't laughing at him.

Because she wasn't.

"Mrs. Carson…" she whispered, turning in his arms. "I just…look where we _are_."

He was perplexed. "On the roof at Downton, of course. Where we had our first kiss." He looked down at her, befuddled. "We wanted to come up here. For Jack to take pictures of us here."

"Yes," she said, trying to marshal her thoughts. She took his hands in hers. Rubbing her thumb over his ring, she shook her head. "That Valentine's Day…I woke up that morning at school thinking the day was going to end just like any other. That the Head Boy knew my name, but didn't feel anything like I felt."

"Elsie," he whispered, leaning his head against hers. "But the Head Boy did feel something for you. He couldn't believe the smart, strong Elsie Hughes actually liked him _back_."

"I liked you then," she murmured. "But I love you now, and always will."

"I love you."

He gently pressed his lips against hers. It was a short kiss, sweet, as they both smiled remembering that cold night in February years before.

Their next kiss was not short.

Charles held her close, feeling her hands on his back as she hummed into his mouth. She ran one hand up to the base of his neck, bringing him closer.

Elsie's heart was full. _Here we are, where we began._

 _And now we will live the rest of our lives together._

Jack clicked away, being as unobtrusive as possible. It was not terribly difficult. The newlyweds barely took any notice of him.

They did pose for a few shots, silhouetted against the setting sun.

"Perfect," Jack grinned. When he opened his phone, its light reflected back on his face.

Charles hadn't noticed how dark it had gotten. He smiled, his arm around Elsie's waist, her head tucked under his chin. He slipped his own phone out of his pocket and with his thumb hit a few buttons. Then he gave a nod to Jack, who was near the door to the stairs.

"Well, how about I leave the two of you up here for a few minutes?" the photographer asked. "I think I can find my way back downstairs. If I'm captured by a ghost from Downton's past, don't worry…I've already saved your pictures. That picture on the gallery of the girl with light-colored hair was _divine_."

He shut the door behind him.

"We really need to go," Elsie whispered as they kissed again. "As nice as it is up here by ourselves, our guests are going to think we snuck away."

"Mmm, let's stay a little while longer." He rubbed her back.

Below them, from the tent, a very familiar song began.

Elsie lifted her head. From the look on her husband's face, she knew.

"You planned this, didn't you?"

"Well," he swallowed, smiling, "You _wanted_ pictures on the roof. And it _was_ the first song we danced to. I just thought…"

"Charlie," she interrupted, moving back a few steps, keeping her hands in his, "Shut up and dance with me."

 _I felt it in my chest as she looked at me_

 _I knew we were bound to be together_

 _Bound to be together_

 _She took my arm_

 _I don't know how it happened_

 _We took the floor and she said…_

"You are a romantic, Charlie Carson," she teased as they went with the beat. He twirled her under his arm, and then dipped her in his strong arms.

"Never forget it," he whispered, his lips just above hers.

"I won't."

 _Oh don't you dare look back_

 _Just keep your eyes on me_

 _I said 'You're holding back'_

 _She said, 'Shut up and dance with me."_

 _This woman is my destiny_

 _She said, 'Shut up and dance with me…"_

They had the choice at the end of the dance to keep dancing, or to kiss.

They kissed.

* * *

It was a grey morning in front of the Grantham Arms.

Elsie yawned, shuffling her feet. Charles and Tom Branson were putting their luggage into Tom's car.

She was tired and her body ached.

 _I don't regret it. Late night, early morning, all that._

 _I know_ _he_ _doesn't._

Charles lifted her suitcase and set it in the boot of the car. She could see his muscles rippling in his arms. The familiar sensation stirred low in her belly. It made her smile.

 _Like we were just going to fall asleep last night!_

 _He was dying to get your dress off of you…_

 _And you were just as eager to get his morning suit off of him._

"Here you go."

Elsie blinked, tearing her eyes from her handsome husband. Sybil Branson held a drink carrier in her hands.

"This one's yours," the dark-haired young woman pointed at one. "Mocha, extra hot."

"Thank you," sighed Elsie gratefully. Usually she would have had tea, but she needed something stronger.

"All ready?" Tom looked at them. His eyes lit up. "Coffee!"

"Oh, I see what your heart truly loves," Sybil teased as she handed him and Charles their drinks. They all got into the car, Charles and Elsie in the back. For a couple of minutes all was quiet.

"Mmm, I needed this," Tom savored his steaming cup. He set it gently next to him, keeping his eyes on the road. "Wife, are you human or divine? That is nectar of the gods!"

"Hear, hear," Charles agreed. Since beginning his BPTC, he had become addicted to his morning cup.

"If I'm divine, so is Elsie," Sybil grinned over her shoulder at the bride. "She suggested getting some before we left the village."

Charles held up his cup. "I won't argue with that, goddess divine." He admired his wife as he sipped his black roast.

They had made love before, but there had been an extra intensity the previous night.

 _The way she moved in my arms…what she does to me…she could've asked for the moon, and I would've said yes._

She slid her hand across the seat to put it over his left, feeling the ring on his finger. "If I'm a goddess, wouldn't I know _where we're going?_ "

"You _still_ don't know!?" Sybil whipped her head around. "It's a good thing neither of us spilled it accidently – we thought Charles would've told you by now!"

Lifting Elsie's hand, Charles kissed it. He felt a little nervous. What if she would have preferred to go somewhere else?

"We're going to Italy," he told his wife. "Venice, to be precise. We can take a day trip to Padua, if you like," he rushed on. "There's lots to do…"

Elsie was overwhelmed. " _Really?_ " she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "Venice? Are you serious, Charlie?"

"Yes," he gave her a hesitating smile. "I hope you're not disappointed."

Her tears overflowed. "Disappointed? Charlie, I'm _thrilled!_ The farthest I've ever gone was France, with you, and that trip to Ireland with Julia and some of my other friends from Glasgow this spring! Venice?" She wiped her eyes, laughing. "The city of Casanova, and gondola rides…oh, Mr. Carson, you are a romantic."

The backseat got very quiet.

"I think," Tom whispered to Sybil, "It's going to be a successful trip."

* * *

It was a long travel day, but neither of them minded. At first Elsie was too excited to even think about sleeping on the train from Leeds. Then in the hubbub of King's Cross and the Tube to Heathrow, she had no time to rest.

The flight was another matter.

Charles smiled gently, shifting slightly in his seat. His wife's head rested on his shoulder.

For her sake, he was glad she wasn't snoring. Not that the flight crew would have minded. The attendants had spoiled them, bringing them champagne and going on the intercom to announce to the entire plane that the newlyweds were there. Several passengers had congratulated them.

He drifted off to sleep, his head resting against Elsie's.

* * *

"Wow," he whispered to himself. The view by anyone's standards was spectacular.

Venice's Grand Canal was spread out before him. The evening light sparkled on the water, and lights everywhere gave the ancient city a glow that he could feel in his bones.

He would be paying the bill for this trip for a _long_ time (even after Peter and Mei had kicked in some of the cost, insisting that was their wedding present), but it was worth it.

Worth it to stay at the Hotel Danieli, with a larger room, with their own private balcony.

He took a deep breath and went through the French doors to their room. He checked his reflection and slipped his jacket on. An open-collared shirt and jacket, along with nice trousers, was a good choice for the evening, he thought. Not too casual, but not too formal.

"Elsie?" He knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you ready soon? We've got a reservation."

"I remember," she said in a dry voice. "I'll be out in a moment, dear."

He smiled, shaking his head. _One day married, and I'm waiting on her to finish getting ready._

 _I don't mind._

She opened the door and a cloud of perfume and warm air came out. "Ooh, it feels much better out here," she said. "Do you think I need my cardigan tonight? Just in case?"

His tongue felt too big for his mouth. The little black dress she wore showed just a hint of her cleavage. It took all his willpower to make his brain function. "Bring it. J-just in case."

 _In case I need you to wear it so I can function without staring at you like a lunatic._

"All right," she said brightly, putting in her other earring. "You look very handsome."

"Thank you."

He stood still as she gathered her cardigan, phone, and small purse. She had opened the door, and was turning back to him, when he wondered why she had that look on her face.

"Are you coming to dinner?" She asked, biting her lip. Her eyes twinkled. "We _do_ have a reservation."

"I remember," he said. He followed her out of the room.

They ate outside at the Terrazza Danieli, enjoying the tasting menu with wine. Elsie was quiet. Charles could tell she was enjoying the food, both because of her complimenting it, and because he knew her well, but he still worried that she was displeased.

 _She said she was thrilled – what more do you want?_

To shake his fears, he took another sip of his wine. "This is excellent, don't you think?"

"It is." His heart warmed when she smiled. "I would have thought you would have chosen the Bordeaux, but instead you chose the Mormoreto."

He set his glass down. "Well, I do prefer the Bordeaux, but when in Italy…"

She blew out a laugh through her nose. "…drink Italian wine? Indeed." She nibbled at the dessert that still sat in front of them. "This is a fancy chocolate biscuit…with coconut and raspberry. I thought you would've finished it in three seconds flat."

"I wanted you to have some." His stomach flipped. "Don't you like it?"

"I do, very much," she said, her elbow perched carelessly on the table, the tips of her fingers against her lips. "Charlie, what _is_ the matter?" she asked gently. "Please tell me. Something's bothering you."

He thought about saying nothing, or saying he was tired. But she read him like a book.

"I just…" he ran his finger along the white tablecloth, his eyes flitting from the lights dancing across the canal to his wife. "You were so quiet during dinner, and I wondered if I'd done the right thing. If I should've chosen a place that wasn't so…so _fancy_ , I guess."

"If you're wondering whether you should've had us honeymoon in Cornwall or somewhere closer to home, please don't second guess yourself. It's lovely there, and I do want to see more of our own country. Someday. But Charlie, you _did_ pick the right place for us." She sighed and slid her hand across the table. He took it, and she squeezed his hand. Comforting him. "I've been quiet because I've been re-living the last few days. Yesterday morning I woke up in Beryl's room when her dog jumped on the bed, and now I'm sitting here on this marvelous terrace seeing this amazing view, having finished the most expensive meal I've ever eaten in my life. With my best friend, who is now my husband." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I've not been quiet because I'm unhappy. I'm quiet because I'm _happy_. The happiest I've ever been. And this is only the beginning."

His anxiety went away at her words. He wasn't sure if he was going to burst into tears or burst out laughing out of sheer joy.

 _It's how I feel. All of it._

He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "God, I love you, Elsie."

"I love you, Charlie," she breathed, half-laughing. "You lovely man."

Her eyes were dark. He did not think it was just because they were sitting outside beneath a night sky.

* * *

A lamp was lit in their room. The dim light showed his shoes kicked askew, his jacket hung haphazardly on a chair, his shirt and trousers crumpled into a heap near the bed.

Her black dress was on top of his clothes.

She straddled his lap on the bed, her hands on either side of his face.

She loved his kisses.

 _They are better than dinner, better than the wine._

 _Definitely better than the wine._

His tongue caressed hers and she moaned.

"Charles Ernest Carson," she whispered, shivering, as he pulled her closer, "You. Are. A. _Devil._ "

"Am I, Elsie May Carson?" He rumbled, his nose brushing against hers. He grinned when he ran his hands down her back and cupped her bum, and she whimpered. "Do tell me how bad I am."

It was all he could do to talk. She loved to talk during sex, he knew, and the better it was for her, the more she talked.

"Bad," she panted, giving him another fiery kiss. "Very, _very_ bad." She ran her fingers through his hair.

He couldn't wait anymore. He could only hope she was as close as he was. He laid back, pulling her with him. For several seconds she was on top of him.

He took the opportunity to tease her breasts some more.

She cried out, the sound echoing around the room. "More _mo ghraidh_ , god, make me _come_ -"

Rolling over again, he joined them, feeling her arms hook through his, her breath against the hollow of his neck.

Their movements together.

She swore, her fingernails digging into his back. Scratching him. Marking him. "Husband, _please_ -"

He came with a roar. His joy was made complete when she shattered beneath him.

 _He is bad, so very bad, oh god he's good, he's good, he's good good GOOD, and he is_ _ **mine**_

 _And I am his. Forever._

They lay together, panting. She was warm but she still shivered. Coming down from her high.

 _What he_ _ **does**_ _to me…_

 _His kisses, and everything else._

She found he had so thoroughly satisfied her, she couldn't figure out how to talk.

So she laughed instead.

"I do hope," he panted, her hand in his, resting on his chest, "That means you are happy."

It felt like there was a giant bubble inside his chest. Instead of popping however, it just got bigger.

"Yes," she hiccupped as soon as she could put words to speech. "So happy." She rolled onto her side, leaning on her elbow. " _You_ make me happy, Mr. Carson."

"And you make me the happiest of men, Mrs. Carson. My lovely woman, my bride."

He pulled her close and kissed her.

* * *

During their first two days in Venice, they did not venture much beyond the hotel. The first morning there, they enjoyed breakfast in their room.

She did not bother getting dressed when the knock came on their door.

This was a fact that escaped him until he had let the staff member into their room (having hurriedly dressed himself), and saw her sitting upright in bed. She had pulled the sheet over her chest, but her shoulders were bare. He sensed the other man glancing at her, and looking away.

"Why didn't you put clothes on?" He sputtered when they were alone again. It was not jealousy he felt. In the morning light, he could hardly feel anything negative about her – not when her red hair was tousled, her lips were still enticingly swollen, and her skin was flushed pink.

She rolled her eyes. "There was no _time_ , Charlie. I would have had to run across the room to grab a shirt. I could hardly put on last night's dress." She slid out of bed and hung up the said dress, completely comfortable nude. "Besides," she ran a hand through her hair, the other hand on her bare hip, "I don't mind a total stranger being aware of how much I love you."

"He was staring at you," he mumbled, unbuttoning his rumpled shirt. There was no sense in him keeping it on. "You're my wife. I don't want someone else staring at you."

"And I was staring at _you_ the whole time he was in here. I only saw him in my peripheral vision. Now," she climbed back into bed and grabbed a croissant, "Let's eat before it gets cold." She gave him a cheeky grin. "Don't worry, dear, I won't leave this room unless I'm dressed."

They enjoyed an in-room massage on their second day, and went to San Marco Piazza the next. They laughed at the pigeons and the tourists that encouraged them.

"Feeding the birds, _really_?" she giggled as they enjoyed some gelato in a quiet street. "Sometimes people have no sense…"

"I would have been tempted to do it, if you hadn't told me not to," he licked the melting cream as it inched towards his hand. "How did you know it was a bad idea? Common sense?"

"That, and I grew up on a farm," she said stoutly. "Birds are a menace at the best of times."

Walking and wandering through the narrow streets, they never got lost, but they lost their sense of direction at times. One afternoon they visited several little shops. She wasn't one who enjoyed shopping, but Anna and Phyllis had given her money to do so.

"You should buy that hat," Charles whispered to her as a saleswoman hovered in the background. "It's like something Sophia Loren would have worn, back in the day."

"Am I an Italian legend?" She asked.

"No. You're better. The Scottish legend, come south to dazzle them all."

"Flatterer," she harrumphed. She ended up buying the hat, and a pair of retro sunglasses that looked like they had been in the shop since the '80s.

"Most fashions come back," Elsie told Charles as they walked back to the hotel. "I don't know much about it, but I _do_ know that."

He reached over, touching her glasses, her hat bag swinging from his hand. "We're going to go home and everyone's going to think you're some Sloane Ranger, is that it?"

"Nevaaaaahhhhh," she stretched out the word. "Is that what you think, Mr. Carson?" She adjusted her glasses, staring over the top of them at him. Her native accent was gone; she sounded uncannily like some upper-crust lady from Suffolk, he thought.

"I think you're beautiful, no matter what you wear." A smile pulled on the corners of his lips. "Or what you _don't_ wear."

"Well said, sir."

"When it comes to you, madam, I always speak the truth," he replied, putting on his best RP. She linked her hand through his elbow. They managed to walk twenty feet, very prim and proper, before dissolving into laughter.

They took a gondola ride one cloudy morning. Both agreed it was much better once they'd left the Grand Canal and main channels. Sitting back in the boat, they snuggled together and kissed as they drifted beneath small bridges, in waterways so narrow their guide could touch the walls on either side.

They ate a late lunch, then went back to their room. Both of them slept for a while. After they woke up, they went online for the first time in days.

"It's nice to avoid it for a while," Elsie said. They were sitting outside on the balcony. "I've put a bunch of pictures up. Now I can log off and forget about it until the next time I go on, when I'll wonder, 'Why do I have so many comments?"

"And you tagged me," Charles grumbled. "I go on even _less_ often than you do. Now I'll get a bunch of comments…"

"Consequence of being married, love," she kissed his cheek. "Oh the _horror_ , you'll have people wanting to connect with you on social media, too."

"Anna took a lot of pictures from the wedding," he mused, scrolling down a bit. "Mei did – oh!" He cried. "Did Phyllis work on your dress? I didn't know that!"

"She did," Elsie said, her chin on his shoulder. "It was a last minute thing. She was a lifesaver."

"I don't know her well, not as well as you do, but she seems really nice. I don't know what she sees in Joseph Molesley, though…" He said it only to rile his wife. He knew his former teammate, awkward though he was, had a heart of gold.

"Oh, hush, not you too," Elsie scowled at him. "Joseph is a very nice young man. I'd say Phyllis sees just as much in him as he sees in _her_."

"Finished defending the downtrodden?" He smiled, undeterred by her expression. "I do love it when you feel the need to take the moral high ground."

"Charlie Carson, you did _not_ talk down about him just to get a rise out of me," she gasped, swatting him on the shoulder. "How _dare_ you!"

He kissed her nose. "You are incredibly sexy when you get angry, did you know that?"

"That is _very_ dangerous thing to say," her eyes flashed. Though he also thought he saw her mouth twitch.

He took a chance and stood up. "I'm only speaking the truth, _amore mio_. Please don't think I would ever make you angry on purpose."

"You are a horrible liar," she said, jumping up. Her hands were on the back of the chair he'd just vacated. "You always have been, and you always will."

He ignored her and started to sing. In truth, he felt rather silly, but she made him so happy he didn't care how silly he looked.

Or sounded.

" _O sole mio…"_

He picked up one of the red roses from the vase and presented it to her with an exaggerated bow.

"Oh no," she groaned, smacking her hand on her forehead, "If you think you're going to seduce me _now_ , you're going to have to try harder than that!"

He set down the rose and grabbed her hands, still singing, and started dancing. She refused to move.

He was not discouraged by this. Her face twitched, and she smiled.

 _Aha!_

Before she could react, he picked her up like a sack of potatoes, hauling her over his shoulder back into their room. She giggled, beating her fists on his back. It didn't hurt.

"Put me dooooowwwn, ye crazy man! I thought I married a Yorkshireman, but you're an Italian!"

Her accent was stronger the more she laughed. He started laughing himself, spinning slowly.

He tossed her on the bed. That was as far as he intended things to go, but he slipped and fell forward, landing across her knees.

"Get off me," she choked. She was laughing so hard, tears were running down her face. He moved a bit so he was laying right next to her. "You silly, silly man."

"I am who I am, Mrs. Carson," he wagged his eyebrows, hiccupping. "Your silly man. Or whoever you want me to be."

Her chest still heaved with laughter, but her eyes sparkled. "I want you to be _you_ , Charlie," she gasped for breath, smiling widely. "Horrible liar, excellent student, soon to be great barrister, a Yorkshireman who loves his cricket-"

"Not half as much as I love you," he said, feeling a grin coming on even as he tried to be serious. "All right… _maybe_ half."

She got a fit of giggles again. "I don't mind that," she put a hand on his chest. "I loved watching your matches when we were at school." He raised his eyebrows.

"Who's the liar now?"

"All right," she shook her head. "I loved watching _you_. You and those cricket whites…one look, and I was gone."

"How so? What do you mean?" He tried to sound innocent, and succeeded. She _blushed_.

"Oh, you know-" she gestured rather randomly.

"No, I don't. Tell me," he persisted. He _thought_ he knew, at least.

Her face got even redder. "Do I need to say it out loud?"

"Yes. Yes, you do." He ran his finger along her cheek, under her chin. "Of course I _know_ , but I'd rather hear it from you."

For as open as she was when they were intimate, there were times that she found it hard to say what she meant.

"I already liked you," she said shyly. "Before I went to my first match. Seeing you in the cricket whites…those long trousers, your sleeves…I could see how…how _strong_ you were. How fast, how agile. From behind, I got a really good look at your bum, too…you're very fit, Charlie, as you well know," her deep blue eyes danced. "I wanted you then," she whispered. "I knew you obeyed the rules, unlike me, and that you liked being Head Boy. I knew you were a good student and I wasn't then; I even knew you liked another girl for ages, but those things didn't matter. I wanted to know the real Charlie Carson, what you were like when you were alone. I wanted _you_. Warts and all."

"You got all that from a cricket match?" He asked.

She nodded. "I didn't know if you would ever notice me, so I knew I had to go on as if you never would. And then there was that day in the rain. And later, that day when I saw you as the Headmistress dragged me to her office."

"And then we met on the roof on Valentines' Day," he whispered.

"Thank God," she put her hand over his against her cheek.

"Well, Mrs. Carson," he murmured. "If you want me, you can have me."

She leaned forward and gave him a very gentle kiss. Just a little brush against his lips. "I do, and I will."

They made love slowly. Cherishing each other. She cried, holding him in her arms.

 _There is no one I ever wanted more, or could ever want._

* * *

It rained the day they went to Padua. Though their main goal was to see the Scrovegni Chapel (an inside attraction) Charles was a little disappointed.

"I wanted to wander a bit," he confessed on the train back to Venice. "See different things…if I'd known it was going to rain, I would've just had us stay put."

"Stay in bed, you mean," she teased him under her breath. There were others sitting nearby – Charles wasn't sure if they spoke English, but he and Elsie had to assume they did.

"You're not far wrong," he whispered in her ear.

His breath tickled her neck.

They sat further apart when a priest came into their compartment. Elsie started scrolling on her phone.

"Did you see that picture of Alice?" She asked.

He hadn't thought about Alice Neal in years. "I didn't know _you_ were friends with her!"

"I'm not, but Cora commented on it," she said. "You know her – she friended everyone from Downton. Did Alice get plastic surgery?"

"How would I know?" He yawned, gazing out the rain-spattered window. "Why, does she look different from when she was at school?"

"Her nose looks thinner."

He leaned over to take a look. "Hmmm. You're right. Maybe she did have surgery…I can't say it was an improvement. If she likes it though…"

"I'll never have surgery," Elsie clicked her phone off. "You'll just have to watch me age naturally. Whether I turn into some ugly old bat or not."

"Hey, bats are good-looking," he protested. "Anyway, I think you'll be beautiful, no matter your age," he said. He started singing under his breath. " _That it's just you and me/Until we're grey and old…"_

She hugged his arm. "I love you."

"You too."

The priest smiled at them.

* * *

Too soon, it was their last night in Venice.

"Do you really think the red dress is fine?" She called to him through the bathroom door. "I thought maybe it was a bit much. Maybe I should wear the little black one again…"

"Wear the red one," he bent over the sink and carefully shaved beneath his nose. He knew she was eyeing herself in their room, probably biting her lip. Doubting her choice. "You wore the black dress the first night we were here."

 _And if you wear it again, I won't be able to leave this room, much less the hotel._

He let out a long breath, forcing himself to concentrate. The last thing he wanted was to cut himself.

After successfully shaving, Charles dressed in his suit and paired it with a lighter grey tie. He fiddled with his ring a little when he was gathering his wallet and the key to their room. He wasn't used to the weight on his finger.

Not that he minded it at all. It was just new.

He headed down the stairs toward the grand lobby. He could tell it was more crowded than when they had returned earlier, because the sound of voices bubbled up the stairs, echoing everywhere.

Mixed in was the familiar sound of Elsie's voice. Her laugh.

He felt himself smile. Hearing her laugh would never get old. Ever.

 _Like hearing her the night of the Valentine's Day dance, after Jimmy told her a joke._

Slowing down on the stairs, he came to a stop on the bottom. In the lobby, where before there had been two men playing some sort of card game, there were now at least eight that he could count.

And they were all clustered around _her_.

His bride.

She laughed, brushing her hair from her face, pointing at the various cards, speaking both a mixture of English and the few Italian words she'd picked up during their stay. Her red dress, instead of washing out her natural hair color, accentuated it. And he knew that it fit her perfectly – she'd tried it on for him after she had bought it.

There was a glow about her that was almost tangible.

" _It's the look of a woman in love, my lad."_

 _Mam was right._

One man tried to explain the rules of the game, but Charles couldn't see how she could hear him, while three other men were trying to get her attention. Despite the smoking ban, cigarette smoke floated in the air around them. It gave his view an old-school feel, like something out of a '50s movie.

That, and the crowd of men clustered around a gorgeous woman.

 _Like a bunch of peacocks._

He wasn't jealous at all. He could hardly blame them!

Less than two weeks after their marriage, it still felt like a dream to him. That she was his.

She sat in a chair, her left side facing him. Her ring glinted on her finger. Throwing down a card, she laughed again when the men all cheered.

" _Brava, brava!_ "

Resting her hand lightly on her cheek, she turned towards Charles, as if she sensed he was there. He felt his heart stop at the sight of her. She was so beautiful.

He didn't even care that he was staring openly, or that his grin resembled the fabled Cheshire cat.

The smile and blush that spread across her face when their eyes met told him that he had just as much effect on her as she did on him.

Still, she rose gracefully from her seat. Her soft, " _Grazie, ciao_ ," to the disappointed men made him love her all the more. She'd never convince him that it sounded ridiculous when a Scot spoke Italian.

"You look wonderful," she breathed when she reached him. Her eyes sparkled.

"Thank you. You look…" He couldn't even finish. He wasn't quite sure when he'd taken a breath, or how, but he must have had, or else he'd be lying on the floor.

He took her hand and kissed it, stars bursting in his chest at the sound of her little gasp. She wove her left arm through his right and they walked out of the hotel. It was a short walk to the restaurant.

"Having fun?" His face was going to hurt from smiling. He didn't care.

"Yes," she still sounded rather breathless. He slowed down, though they were hardly going fast. "It was funny, and loud, especially as more people came in. But I would rather be with you, _amore mio_." She squeezed his arm.

He stopped completely and pulled her closer. His kiss was light against her lips, but she made a soft sound in her throat, a wordless murmur. She pushed his head further down with her hand on the nape of his neck. Their mouths opened.

Very soon their heavy breathing would have been considered indecent in public – if they were anywhere else except a quiet street along a canal in Venice.

"God," she whispered as his lips traced a path from her cheek down her neck to the thin strap on her shoulder, "What you _do_ to me…"

His hands moved from the small of her back to her hips. If she backed up a few steps she'd be against a wall. The thought made him groan aloud. Her fingers dug into his neck and back, and his mind whirled.

 _She wants me, too. Here._

They were forced to stop when a group of tourists walked by. Elsie was glad her husband had the presence of mind to simply give her a hug.

After the noisy group had gone, Charles stood up straight and took a step back from her, feeling light-headed. He took a deep breath and checked his appearance. His suit, shirt, and tie were somehow still pressed with no wrinkles. Elsie's eyes were heated, but she laughed under her breath, tucking her hair back and smoothing her hands down her dress.

"You need to eat. We both do." She almost sounded normal, though her chest still heaved. There was a red flush across her face and down across her chest. "Is my makeup smudged?"

"Not at all. Well, maybe you need a touchup of your lipstick. I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, willing his body to calm down.

She gave him a small smile and shook her head. "It's not only your fault. It's easily fixed, anyway." She pulled out a tiny mirror from her purse and re-applied her lipstick.

"How do I look?" He held out his arms in a dramatic pose. She laughed louder, wrinkling her nose, as she put the items away.

"As I said before, wonderful," she reached up to brush at his forehead. "Though one curl _insists_ on flopping onto your forehead. As always."

"Mum said she hoped you would finally succeed where she failed, and browbeat my hair into submission."

There. The image of his mother should have made him more able to control himself. To succeed in him resembling something other than a horny newlywed who wanted nothing more than to carry his wife back to their hotel room and make love to her until dawn. Or until they were both arrested like Casanova.

"Why would I want to do that?" Her fingers slid through his as they began walking again. "I love your curly hair – you don't need to do anything with it. Besides, when you go to court, you'll be wearing a wig! No one will see your fine locks except for me. Which is the way I like it," her eyes twinkled.

They enjoyed their evening, unaware that they got several looks from others sitting near them.

 _Young love._

 _Aren't they sweet, Todd?_

 _Bella donna…_

Venice was lovely, a beautiful memory that they would share for the rest of their lives, they knew. But real life and home beckoned.

This time, they would live it together.


End file.
